Razorback Ridge just can't get enough

Backdated one day (early evening, May 5th).

Malrok's paws took him toward the mountains, and he paused at the bottom of this one. He had crested enough mountains to know that this one would not be easy, if it could be done at all. Even a quick glance allowed him that much knowledge. The sides were steep, the loose rocks a sign of easy crumbling, and the sharp edges a risk to anybody who tried to conquer it. No, he would not be attempting such a thing today (or ever, if he was smart).

Instead, the wolf merely admired the mountain, smiling upon it like one might smile upon a well-bred attack dog. Pleased, but knowing not to trust it. The sun would be setting soon, and the Tartok wolf thought this would be a decent place to wait out the night.