Moonspear and still insists he sees the ghost

The firelight glimmer of sun peered through thick clouds and dappled the mountain in an ethereal glow.
 
Along the base of the looming structure, a dark shadow roamed the edges of the claim. The simmering burn of his hawkish yellow stare was trained well on the markings of their hold. Every few moments, the shade would piss against the dirt or a boulder. His scent was strong as he approached his first year – only a few months remained.
 
Turning his attention to the peaks of Moonspear, Atlas began his climb.
 
The child of the mountain had made the stones his home. His worn leather pads had been chipped and calloused until they had hardened against the harsh rocky exterior. As he climbed the first steep incline, his thick chest heaved with the breath that passed through him.