Sawtooth Spire bleed through spaces

Saturnine came to the basin with sore paws and a parched throat, black fur awry. She was skinnier than she'd ever been, having lost all the adult weight that'd just begun to fill out her lanky, yearling body. Gone was that budding solidity to her frame; when the wind battered her, she felt as if it might sweep her right off the mountainside.

It had been four months since she'd left home.

And yet...

And yet, there was something about the climb. Something invigorating. Something very like fear, if Saturnine were ever the type to admit she was afraid. Even to herself, however, she would lie about her state of mind. She was not afraid. She was excited.

And she was very excited when her eyes fell on the moving shape of another wolf. For a moment she tucked herself down deeper into the brush, instinctively shying from the much larger creature. Why, he could simply pick her up and toss her off the mountain, the way the wind had failed to these many months! But in the next moment she knew that he'd probably already seen her.

"I thought I'd finally be alone once I got to the top," she said, her voice scathing but her heart racing, jumping, and taking flight. Adrenaline surged through her, but she clung to her act of nonchalance and artful distaste.