Porcupine Ridge precious and fragile things

His coat became speckled like a robin's egg, but entirely white. Pieces of the milky gray sky flew freely and unhindered through the biting cold of the air as Dovev's muzzle stuck out. Little wet pools of condensation formed on his lip and nostrils as the wolf began to leave his lookout post. The ground became sharp and scratchy against his hewn nails and calloused pads, and stabbed streams of ice up his legs. As the white male lifted his skull, he could see the upper rim of the ledge pockmarked with pine trees- shelter. The harsh and difficult entrance into the sanctuary was what had drawn his attentions in the first place. Picking somewhere with easy access meant wolves; Dovev did not like to be bothered.
The treacherous ascent started with several stepping stones of shattered outcroppings which provided a jumping point for the large canine. He sprung towards the heavens, his back pads sliding off the slick icey faces of the rock. He recovered, but it exerted a monstrous force onto his shoulders. If Dovev was to keep his skull intact, he would proceed with more caution. As the wolf stopped again to survey his destination once more, a fleeting aroma accompanied by something that hadn't been on the precipice a moment ago. A solitary dark blob had appeared to his upper right, and the brute was searching for any more clues as to what it was. However, the wind was blowing over his shoulders and rushing into the cliffs walls, providing him no opportunity to maintain a steady grasp on the perfume. Whatever it was, Dovev was in no way anxious about confrontation. He just had to climb up these damned rocks first.
The going was slow but meticulous, the jagged and loose footings tumbling away only fractions after his weight had been shifted. He pushed himself to move quickly and in short bursts, trusting his instincts to guide him up the sheer trail. Dovev had almost reached the top, however, when his front left pillar pivoted his frame the wrong way. His body was slammed against the blackened stone, slick with snow as a rock broke loose and dropped onto his left foot. He almost let out a sharp yelp, but quickly bit it back and the only sound that echoed from his tight lips was the thrum of a snarl. He scrambled up the last of the cliff wall, holding his bleeding paw aloft to the elements. On solid ground, Dovev quickly moved forward from the lips of the ridge, his paws leaving a trail of three legs and small dark spots. He could now clearly identify the elusive scent, and surprise, it was his own species. Only doing God knows what. The black form farther down was a black she-wolf, apparently watching Dovev's attempt to scale the ridge. He'd made it, but his paw throbbed. Put into the obvious disadvantage, the ivory wolf was no less prepared to defend himself. His silver gaze stared pointedly across, audits thrown forward on his crown and ruff bristling slightly. He had taken a liking to these lands, even if they had tried to smash his front joints.