Boartusk Heights Corpus Craggus

the wildcat was met with weary eyes that latched to him with a tenacity that was not known by strangers. for a moment, tusk imagined that he had found his way back to the wolves of schugkill. when the wind reminded him of his place, he felt his interest rise to the peak. expressionless and savage in his approach, the cur closed much of the space between their two bodies in great prowling strides. the length of his frame rippled with muscle and intent until it did not, and he had pulled his pace back to a stop. it was there that the dull yellow of his eyes shot to the features of the stranger; he gathered what he could on sight alone, but found that it did not provide him with much.

another step closer, and tusk could almost scent the agouti brute. his nostrils flared to pull in the aroma that the unknown figure produced. when he exhaled, it was to release a great cloud that drifted away from him and disappeared into a grey sky.

“not a good place to sleep,” the wildcat spoke with a motion toward where the other male had been attempting to nestle down for the night. surely, he should have known that. his tone was gruff and seemed to carry the tone of an earthly growl behind it. when he spoke, it fell from his lips without hitching or breaking in any way. the words that were spoken were done so with absolute certainty, as though he had thought about them for years before uttering them. it was his way – he acted without second guessing, and he had prevailed.