Moonspear phalanx

Had the bear returned? Treepie’s toes curled around the lip of rock as she squinted down at the figure marching toward the foot of Moonspear far below. She shook her head when she realized it was only a wolf—a very large one, she supposed.

It took some time to descend the slopes. With the ranks so sparse, she considered herself a de facto guardian. It had even occurred to her that she could claim leadership here, as one of the only remaining loyalists. Pie had no desire to unseat her uncle and still struggled with her sense of worth, though if not her… then who?

When her paws hit even ground, she took a breath and squared her shoulders. Her gaze had never left the stranger, who was indeed remarkably large in stature. Despite this, she tipped her chin upward and kinked her tail, recalling those days before the bungled leadership retreat as her electric yellow eyes ate into the man’s face.

Greetings, stranger. What brings you to Moonspear?