Frostfire Ridge blood

wintersbane watches as his chuff draws her attention and as the woman turns to face him. there's a subtle lift of his chin as he regards her, ears cupping forth as she greets him in a quiet purr. hello, he replies back, taking a few steps closer so that he might glimpse upon the hollow and see-able parts of the taiga from the ridge. it was, after all, why he came up here. habitually, the tundrian glimpses over the edge of the ridge to study his pack lands sprawled proudly out before him before his gaze and attention shifts to her in full. besides the strategic value of it, it's a nice view, isn't it? he inquires in a contemplative hum, he indicates towards the land stretched out before the with a small gesture of his muzzle. there was nothing quite like views like this — where everything looks smaller and one could easily think themselves king of everything the light touches ( or maybe that was his vanity and arrogance coming to play ).