Boartusk Heights holy, unholy, beast and divine

the morass was below, stretched out across miles like a dark plague against the light of the earth. the only things he had seen rise from the area were crows, or ravens – he hadn't been certain which. he could hear their cries as they passed the point of the mountain and over his head. once the figures of the dark birds had vanished from sight, he had turned back to the stretch of inky morass and began to move along the jagged stone of a more difficult climb. the rock beneath him was grounded and firm, but left little room for mistake. tusk moved as though he were not paying attention to where he was going, only that he needed to keep his limbs from remaining still. the gentle roll of his musculature was a sign that he had not extended beyond his limits; the wildcat was merely existing.

the sound of shuffling and a wicked snort had pulled his dull yellow eyes away from the view. quickly, he latched his gaze to the scrambling figure of a wild boar who had made a great deal of effort to clamber over a particularly large stone. tusk did not aim to strike it down, but watched carefully before leaping over the boulder and following the hog along the alpine. he had thought that it had intended to climb higher, but instead it moved in a horizontal path, rising and dropping only where it was needed before disappearing in the dark of the thick trees.