The Tangle While I’m going insane

Alduin moves beneath a particularly woven together patch of thorns. They scrape against his ribs and shoulders; his scarred lip crawls up into a snarl as he slinks through the patch. 

Finally after about ten more feet of that, he makes it to a solid rock surface. He shakes out his pelt and groans at all the little nicks on his skin he feels. He head is lowered, even with his back and shoulders as he moves forward again. He comes across a steep climb about twelve feet tall. It would be a good vantage point to look around and find out where he is in this hellhole. And thankfully there’s enough of an incline that he might just be able to climb it. 

So he eyes down the tall rock in front of his and notes down the few flat spots that he may be able to place feet his paws while he climbs. Turning away and walking a few paces back, he circles around to face it once more. That’s when he starts into a sprint. His heavy paws thud against the harsh rock below him and as he reaches the base of the rock his body dips low preparing for a powerful jump. 

And he jumps.

He makes it to a very sketchy, flat ledge that’s about five feet up the incline. He leans heavily into the the small cut out and tilts his head all the way up to search for his neck move. 

Although he is bulky and heavy, he would consider himself a good climber. Climbing the oddly shaped rocks in the canyon was one of his favorite past times when he still lived there. It hasn’t changed much nowadays either. When he finds his mind running when he’s at Blackwater, he treks up the mountains there. 

With his chest puffing out short, concentrated breaths he lowers his body again and jumps straight up. His claws scratch and claw at the rock, leaving marks and cause pebbles to fly, but he makes it to the next ledge. His chest expands in a deep breath and he allows his tongue to fall from his maw lined with dangerous teeth to pant. 

When he makes his last move, he skims along the side a few feet and eventually jumps up to the next level — the last level; the top. He gets his front half up there, but his hips down hang threateningly off the edge. Strong, muscular hind legs flex as he digs his claws into the rock, trying to climb up. While he tries to pull himself up with his front half. 

His face is set in a concentrated scowl, half of his lip is lifted into a snarl as he struggles to lift himself over the last stretch. But eventually he makes it up there. His legs burn from overexertion and he pants heavily, head dropping from his shoulders while he catches his breath. It feels like a hard earned victory. So he finally allows himself to lift his head and search the land around him. It has a decent view and he can easily see where he needs to go next from here.

But then he sees something else. The slinking form of another wolf. His eyes squint as he looks over to them. He takes in their extravagant pelt and allows his eyes to rake over them in a scrutinizing manner. 

What would another creature be doing running through here? Surely, they’re not here for the same reason as the hellhound.

Then he realizes how close they already are to him and his brows furrow. Had he not even seen them? No apparently he hadn’t. He was too distracted by the thorns scraping over his pelt and planning his way up this god forsaken rock.

So he pads over to the edge of the tall, flat topped rock. His claws hang and curl over the edge as he looks down fearlessly. 

“Lost?” He asks in that deep, rasping tone.

He also may be lost but he’s not going to let anyone else know that.