Little Goat Mountain You need to let me fly alone

Again the scarred warrior found himself away from his pack lands wandering far and wide. Training, he was not easilly cowled, and he preferred long range training to training in the simple training grounds of Mereo. It was nice there, he enjoyed it. The sparring pits were wonderful, but out here. He could run, he could make his muscles burn even more than in there, so he did.

It was so green here, so different from his home. He sniffed at the little wildflowers that dotted the landscape, and scented after the many prey animals that lived there. He stopped a moment to take a deep breath and it was with that deep breath that his eyes fell upon the mountain, and his heart skipped a beat. There was no scents of large packs of wolves, some lone wolves, but he could conquer that moutain, at least some of it, and himself.

Reyson looked towards the footholds and slowly, but surely began his ascent. The muscles along his shoulders and the tops of his legs burning, but he relished that pain. It meant he was still alive, he was still here. And he pushed himself onward, upward.