Sheepeater Cliff peach & lime daquiri

@Fox

As the hours of the afternoon drifted by, a shadow lined with platinum hairs hovered over the sides of a mountain. Its feet flying quickly over the grass barely making a sound. Was it a mouse? No, it was much bigger though the description suited him very well. He continued to scurry across the slopes of the mountain, keeping his head ducked while he made his way around a large boulder.

Finn Ollivander: too young to be considered a man, but to old to be a teen. Being caught in the middle had always been the male's predicament. During his childhood he was entangled right in the center of a nasty divorce, later he became that one rag that was dirty enough to throw out but still sat at a corner, simply gathering dust-- the leading couple of his pack loathed the boy while her mother clung to him.

The sound of a goat's baaah roused him from his senseless day-dreams, it also reminded him what he had climbed the mountain for. Food. After sniffing around for a bit and deciding that, in fact, the wind was in his favour he decided to move in. His hunting skills, unlike other aspects of her life, didn't fall in the middle.