Blacktail Deer Plateau lestat's tarantella

Very much outside the borders at night. For Fox.

If there was anything outwardly curious about Lestat, it was his aversion to sunlight. Not that he didn't go out during the day, because he most certainly did, when the occasion called for it. That didn't mean, however, that he enjoyed the process. The sun was harsh and altogether too warm, something the wraith did not relish, especially in the dead, dry heat of summer. In the depths of winter, however, he did enjoy an occasional sunbath, as it restored his good mood when he felt dreary.

Lestat had yet to come across a packland, though that would soon change. The scents that meandered toward the plateau in the short distance were strong and diverse, an interesting trait he would remember for future. There was not anything unusual or superb about the land ahead, as far as his flat grey eyes could see; what would draw healthy wolves to its surface? The elevation? The river? The wraith kept a respectful distance from the borders, though he was curious enough to approach and inhale the multitude of scents.