Lion Head Mesa infidel

the scents here were strong, and more wolf than anything. for this reason drusk was more attentive to where he walked and how he moved through those shadows. he did not get far before the sun spotlit him; he blinks where he stands, backing in to the darkwell cast along the rock face.

there is a call; as surprised as the wolf was to be noticed so swiftly, he did not see any eyes watching him or feel discovered yet. he began to slink from shadow to shadow with his tall figure stooped, and found another array of shadows expansive enough to keep him cool, if not hidden.

the stonework was a maze. the farther he went the more disoriented drusk felt, as the red dirt absorbed his steps and the mesa itself seemed to swallow up his path.