Moonspear WHere once was order

Although Treepie remained in front, she moved per Tiki’s cues as they tracked the scent across the mountain’s face. Moving in tandem, they made their way toward one of Moonspear’s many plateaus, where little clusters of trees managed to grow among the crags. Pie padded among the trees, their trunks obscuring the view as she slowly moved toward the edge.

She froze when she saw what she initially considered a snowdrift piled at the foot of a Sitka spruce. Pie huffed quietly under her breath to capture and direct her sister’s attention, her own yellow eyes fixing on the strange heap of white. It took her a few seconds to realize it was a wolf—no, a dog. The dog.

As comprehension dawned, the Ostrega didn’t move. This creature looked nothing like Quail, though it was difficult to discern details. The dog—a male, at least by scent—was curled in a ball, making it hard to see his features. He just looked like an overgrown dandelion puff from where Treepie stood, eyebrows slowly inching up her face.