Heron Lake Plateau a treason bestowed to the crowd

Autumn air was whisked across the stretch of land and along the top of the nearby water. In the distance, a mother deer and her child crossed through the thinnest portion of the river and disappeared into the trees that dappled the area on the other side. With water to either side of him, the wandering wolf was at a loss for where to journey next. He had not felt particularly inspired by the territories in that area, though he was keen to venture through most of them before settling on a group he would attempt to join.
 
Until that time came, Gittarackur was a smoky anomic.
 
The beast diverted his path and aimed to venture onto the plateau where he might get a better view of the mountain range in the distance and the surrounding land. Most of the terrain had been drenched in summer rain, from what he could tell. It seemed as though they had experienced a considerable blessing with that kind of weather. The scent of prey was still strong, and the wilds seemed to be breathing strongly, standing tall and green.
 
A dark shadow pulled Gittarackur’s eye.
 
Turning to where the inky beast had paused to drink, he latched his sights on the unfamiliar form and drank in his figure with moderate interest. The smoky wolf did not speak, however.