Little Goat Mountain Devils and Dust

Artok did not travel far from The Saints often, however upon a chilly morning he moved throughout the place. His intent today was to find a goat upon which to take back to the pack.

He traversed the tiny goat mountain, eyes on the grassy plains above and below. A hitch in his step where the cold had settled into his limp. A few more movements and it would be back to usual range. He had been frequenting the sulfuric waters more often, and for such a reason. The pungent smell clung to him a little bit. He would roll much to his irritation in fields of grass and wildflowers to alleviate some of the stink.

As such it sharpened his own personal scent. Nose to the ground, the white furred elder moved with smooth attention and a gladdened heart.