Sleeping Dragon Syn

Jörmungandr stopped beside a large boulder. The mountain loomed over his head. One eye traced the rocky peaks with mild fascination. It was a strong looking thing, the mountain. Once, Jörmungandr could have seen the homes of wolves upon its rocky slopes. High above cawed a predatory bird. It swooped to cast a shadow over the dark wolf’s head before disappearing on the other side of the rocky face.

Jörmungandr had lost the scent of any Svartravn wolves several miles back. Unconcerned by it, the dark man had found intrigue in the stray scent of Kvitravn. That scent had been lost some ways back, as well. The shade of the mountain had been the only thing to draw him to its base. It was there that he debated resting from the sunlight. Seated in the shade of the mountain itself.