Redhawk Caldera No one says no to Gaston

Through a light snowfall, Qeorvik loped steadily in the direction of a tipless mountain, crossing miles of snowed-over flatland to reach his destination. He preferred the slopes to the feeling of traveling at sea level, though he could not say why. Every now and again his mind would turn to the last place he had seen his companion, and though so far he had been too stubborn to turn back east and search, he felt his desire to find her growing as he continued to find himself lonely.

Upon reaching the caldera, the boy was dismayed to find a plethora of claimant scents at its border – a clear deterrent to a lone wolf like him. Qeorvik snorted in frustration. There were no other heights for him to climb within a day’s travel. He lingered there, allowing a coat of snow to build upon his shoulders, as he tried to decide which direction to head in now.