Sawtooth Spire sunlight

She came loping through the lowlands, due south. Before her was the mountain range: an immense jawbone with spires in place of teeth; it was mighty, like the cliffs of her childhood. The white-wash of snow implied a sense of ethereal beauty, but for all of its softening, Ikkuma only saw what she wanted to see - the imperious presence of an obstacle worth facing.

As she picked her way among the conifers and climbed - with some semblance of ease - along an outcropping of frozen slate, she did come to realize that someone else had found the mountain before her. There were signs of life all along the border of the claim; scents too, heavy and fresh. The law of the wolf forced her back among the trees. She knew she could not cross without angering whatever force lay in wait upon the mountain.

Ikkuma could turn tail and leave. It was just a mountain. Instead she chooses to tilt her chin and raise her voice - alerting the wolves who lay claim to it that she is here and that she is waiting. Perhaps she can appeal to them in some manner? Her days of roaming have brought her nothing - not family, not alliegance, not loyalty to, or from, anyone - and maybe the allure of the mountain isn't the mountain itself, but the chance to start fresh among her own kind.