Thunder Dome death's door

stigmata had been born into fog, and sometimes wondered if it would be the fog that took him. he was a mountaineer by birth, but had spent many months in the lowlands that had softened him to the heights he had once been so surefooted upon. his steadiness was slowly returning, but his victories did not come all without defeats, and that night delivered him an unsuspecting thrashing.

he had slipped into a trench and spent a great deal amount of energy trying to get out of it. the wolf had succeeded, but was not dog-tired from his efforts, and keen on finding a sheltered place to sleep, if not simply to get warm. stigmata tiredly noticed a dark-pointed figure ahead of him, and paused to make sure it was a stranger before attempting to gift the fog-curled male a wide girth as he neutrally went around.