Sleepy Fox Hollow Sapling

Upon the small shelf of stone, Crowfeather was all but gasping for air. His lean shape heaved with each breath, but he drew his tongue along his narrow muzzle with a breath of relief at the sight of Germanicus slowing to stop and rest for a moment.

The shadow did not miss the scent of goat above them. They had a tangy and overwhelming musk that was difficult to miss. His whiskers twitched as the older man stated he would climb up and force one down to the shelf where Crowfeather stood. The dark wolf balked at him slightly, wondering what it was that he was intended to do there on the rocky ledge – battle the fleeing mountaineer?

Y-yes, Germanicus, Crowfeather wheezed softly.