Thunder Dome well the raven is a wicked bird

since stigmata had persuaded him to depart noctisardor, the man had searched for a place to cache his carefully organized store of herbs, at least for now. in the shadow of the peak he found a pair of stones with a small hollow beneath, and there mahler put the pelt-wrapped bundle. with luck, snow would cover it, keeping the delicate leaves from chewing animals. and if not, the musiker had catalogued where to find the plants again.
it was a ragged trip downward, and he too glanced toward the roil of promised danger on the neighboring peak. there was nothing for a wolf so high up, mahler decided, and so swept his eyes across the surrounding area. they settled on the dark form of a stranger, and the gargoyle's head sank down between his shoulderblades. 
no need to defend what he had not claimed, but he would not back down. the presence of stigmata buoyed the man, and after a pause, mahler continued, pulling his gaze away and setting it to look for spoor.