Nocturne Summit the darkness shines in my days

He finds that he prefers higher ground more often than not. For what exact reason he could not say why. Perhaps it was the view as the leaves turned to gold and red and brown on a scale unheard of in his arid home. Or maybe it was his continuing fondness for mountains. Or perhaps it was his lingering fear of the waters and floods. He couldn't say, nor would admit to one or the other. He simply did so when he had the time to. 

He turns when he hears claws scrabbling on stones. He figured that he would not be alone — autumn was a busy time of year for all creatures, and wolves no different. A gust of wind sends the wolf's scent to him. Moonspear. He chuffs a greeting, wondering what the wolf would say.