A dulling mist crept across the low hills leading towards the mountain, and with the mist came the soft pitter-patter of tiny raindrops. They sprinkled across lake Rodney and turned the pale leaves of the forest in to a more vibrant tone, although nothing could replenish the color that the oncoming winter sapped out of them. Amon wasn't among the trees where he usually roosted, nor was he patrolling the lake's edge; he was stationed like a great boulder upon a distant rise, far to the west. It was entirely possible he had crossed over the pack boundary, but he wasn't thinking of that.
Over the next ridge there was a small herd of elk - very small, in fact. He had tracked them from the lake all the way out here, not with the intention of hunting them (for that would be a foolish thing to do on his own) but to monitor them. The herd had lingered upon the hillside for a solid two hours now, and Amon was curious about where they'd wander next. Perhaps he could manipulate their movements? Spook them back towards the caldera? It was a thought, and nothing more - something to occupy his mind while the soft rain soaked in to him.