Silvertip Mountain if this is how you folks make art it’s fucking depressing

the summons drew his attention, though luckily he was within earshot. though it was less of a formal call and more of an inquiry—that was something, given lone wolves should have called with some sense of purpose, rather than just yowling out—

he'd been on-edge since leaving the familiar confines of the valley, which spurred him on to respond to the voice on the wind. it took a while to acclimate himself to new surroundings, and he wasn't quite there yet with the mountain. he hoped they would not leave before he found his way here. 

surya, not as stealthy as his counterparts, sent pebbles and twigs skittering in his wake down the alpine slope. as the trees began to thin, he saw twin blurs—brown for merrick, pale for vesta—their teeth aimed at some unknown target—

he set off at a gallop, bristling, ready to defend his home with life and limb. better that he shed some blood here; the bear-wolves would be proud.

not quite there yet, but coming!