Honeyed Pasture feel right

mahler had set off along the coast in search of something aside from the tooth he had found; the distance from the packland fed his innate wanderlust, and today he found himself in sight of a mountain he had not observed before, a stretch of land beneath it. surely it was inhabited; it fed his eyes for as long as they traveled what details he could see from this distance.
movement shifted the musiker's gaze — a well-built wolf, pristine in color, trotted at a steady gait through the expanse. from atop the slight rise where he stood, mahler's muzzle descended until his head sank beneath his shoulders; he looked a knotted and crouched eyesore against the otherwise pale landscape, eyes trained coldly on the other.