Hideaway Strath Tell it on the mountain

He'd chosen not to climb to the top of the mountain, and when the weather cleared he found a route to follow down in to the muck again. As soon as he spotted the undulating forest of the strath he was in the clear; but as he crossed from one outcropping of exposed rocks and shale to the forest, he felt the whipping winds buffering against his shoulders. He ducked against them. They were strong winds that told him winter was here to stay, rooting itself in the mountains, but he wasn't afraid.

As Tulimaq crept through the forest's densely growing fringe, his broad paws kept him from sinking in to a fresh layer of snow which had fallen overnight. The mountain had it worse. He'd woken with thick layers of pale insulation all around him, and the same silver-white snow clung to his scruff and his spine, frozen in place during his hike. The forest wasn't as densely coated, probably because the trees collected the flakes rather than the ground. That made travel easier.

But he stopped as he came to a gap in the trees, and glanced back at the mountain that had been his home for the past few days - and he realized with a hitch in his chest, that he couldn't abandon it.