A jailyard assault in rain and mud

I think tachycardic mountains might be my new favorite adjective for Ouroboros, lmao.

His round at the borders had been dull. The Spine had gone quiet again, but not for lack of trying. He knew most, if not all of them were busy in their preparations for the winter. But their ranks still remained thin, a fact that Mordecai wasn't sure was a good thing or a bad thing. It was good in the sense that they would have less mouths to feed, but bad in the sense that it brought a sense of disconnect to their territory. Perhaps it was that disconnect, combined with the internal turmoil of their leadership and ranks that had caused so many to seemingly desert their post.

But he thought less on that as the days pressed on, only remaining half as much as an outlier stroking the temptation of leaving himself. Even that urge found itself suppressed when he put thought to it. If he had wanted to leave, perhaps gamble on the chance of taking up home for the winter in another pack, he wouldn't have been walking loosely through their broad span of border. He lingered beyond where the strongest of markings had been lain, more as a ward to warn off those who would step too close. Or perhaps a temptation to those seeking out their own refuge in the wilderness.

And such an opportunity arose as he came steadily around a bend in the terrain. Against the leafy cover it was less of a feat to pick out the lighter tones of legs and chest, versus the way the shadows obscured the darker shape of something distinctly canine. It grasped his attention firmly, and he brought himself within range to be seen, and heard. “It's a nice view, isn't it?” This close to the Spine, and it could be seen. The jagged, low peaks of its location were often obscured by the forest that it only scantly towered over. Here it seemed, they had acquired a bit of a low spot, a natural mask that Jinx had both displayed and worn.