Luneshale Pass at the serpent's behest

castel halts at the crest of the ridge, amber eyes narrowing as the scene unfolds below. a whirlwind of snarls and dust tumbles down the slope, the scuffle loud and furious.

she’s not a wolf. that much is clear. her build is strange, stocky, and her face... it’s almost grotesque, the loose folds of skin twisting with every movement. castel stares, caught between surprise and amusement. what the hell is that?

castel stays where he is, perched above them on the ridge. there’s no rush to intervene. he snorts softly, leaning forward just enough to get a better view. qué espectáculo... he mutters to himself.