Redtail Rise we can bet on all that's lost

Somehow the wolf had lost track of the herd of elk he had been trailing, but he was not fussed about it. He'd slipped north after them and then deviated to the west, intrigued by the dark cliffs and plateaus on the horizon, and sauntered along as if he had been here before. He had not, of course. This entire realm was new to him, but the wolf was a beast of brimming confidence.

As he crept along the plateau lifted him clear of snow pile after snow pile, until he was a solitary near-white shape flitting beneath clusters of trees. The wolf only stopped once he felt secure within a cluster of these trees, his dull coat turned deep like graphite in the shadows; it wasn't until this moment that he noticed the scent of another canine.

It had been ages since he'd found another wolf, and at first he was thrown by the presence. He was alert and cautious in equal measure, stalking along the rise with his long limbs stiffening with every stride and his tail raised level to his hips, the tip wagging with sharp twitches as he investigated the scent—but the pale wolf did not notice the ginger stranger yet.