Sunspire Mountains Somewhere only we know

He followed the scent of the foreigner — the intruder — with the intensity of a particularly well-trained bloodhound, path never deviating from their trail. Stigmata's dictum, that the entirety of the Sunspire Mountains now belonged to Diaspora, had ignited a possessive, territorial streak within the boy, and inspired him to seek out all who dared pass through their territory unannounced.

Of course, it was foolish to think a single pack could wield iron-fisted control over a whole mountain range...but Redshank was a fool. And Stigmata was a persuasive leader.

As the scent grew stronger, his pace hastened, until he finally caught a glimpse of honeyed fur in amongst the snow. He squinted, only just making out a tall, leggy female who didn't seem to pose a threat, but Redshank didn't want to take any chances. He started forward with the intent of catching her off guard, but the unforgiving snow had different ideas. Taken from the path, she slid downwards, slowly at first but quickly gaining momentum.

Redshank sprinted the last few strides to where she had initially misstepped before drawing to a stop with and watching the girl with mild amusement, a cruel smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. Maybe the mountains themselves would do a fine enough job of keeping trespassers at bay.