Emberflame Ridge Breath, should I take a deep?

He cut a dark shadow across the brightly lit stone of the ridge as he stole over its surface, bent nearly double to track scents across the ground. Evening would be falling soon and he would prefer to have a meal secured before then, but with no recent trails, it seemed he was out of luck. That was bound to happen sooner or later. The fact he was even still alive was mostly thanks to luck. That, and a hefty dose of his brother's help. Without Euron, who had other tasks to attend to and other aspirations for the moment, Ramsay had to learn to hunt properly on his own. He did all right for himself after months of working on it, but it wasn't easy. This was the white wolf's season, and a hunched creature as black as a crow's wing was greatly disadvantaged in the open.

With a deft shuffle of his limbs that would look unnatural on any well-proportioned wolf, Ramsay regained his full height and stood peering out over the willows beyond the ridge's sharp lip. His stunted tail quivered with interest as he stretched up on his front legs to sample the wind; there were many wolf scents on the breeze from the north. Perhaps he would begin there.