Silverlight Terrace I'm not my season

The warrior cursed into the wind. 

Foxfur had lost the scent of the boy and had not been able to reclaim it. Frustration coursed through him. Gods damn the rain, he thought with shrewd upward. Clouds already appeared to be moving to block out the sun. The masked wolf knew that he would be forced to stop for another evening. 

The scent of a group was carried on the winds from the north. Foxfur wondered if their numbers had seen the princeling. Brown eyes searched the rocky mountain. 

Moments passed and Foxfur was still undecided. The wolf turned instead to hunt for a meal.