Shadow Mountain The problem with fair questions is that they are asked about an unfair world

Two months old. Dragomir was a whole two months old, and it felt great. The entire pack territory was his playground now. He slept with the adult wolves out under the breezy sky, which he preferred to a stuffy thicket, it turned out. He was a wild beast and preferred to feel the shifting of the wind on his back, to smell his packmates around him and listen to the sounds of midday and night as they slept their cyclical days away. He was getting better at talking and better at stalking bugs and better at getting around.

Today he went further than he was probably allowed to go, carrying himself with strong limbs into the upper reaches of Arrow Falls, then even further. Shadow Mountain was not distinguishable from its surroundings in any way, but Dragomir knew he had crossed the threshold when the scent of his packmates suddenly disappeared. That gave him pause for a moment. He fidgeted, tempted to go back.

But the sprawling mountain reaching for the sky beckoned him further, so on he went. Not too far from Diaspora's claim, but enough that he felt like he had travelled far. The slope only got steeper as he went, clawing toward the clouds, and eventually his young legs couldn't handle it; it was here that he plateaued, heading slowly sideways along a ridge rather than climbing any higher. Below, he could faintly hear the roar of the falls, indicating he was still close to home.