Bearclaw Valley quicksilver cruel

He'd picked his way along a weather-worn slope, where stacks of granite formed irregular shapes that should have fallen, yet persisted. Before this he had caught the scent of some rodent or other, a muskrat or maybe a stoat - but he didn't feel invested enough to pursue through a stand of timbers.

Where he was now, Revui was exposed to a brisk wind that felt like it was trying to ward him away. It brought a new scent which piqued his interest for how strange it seemed; sweet, like fat, but thick with musk. This he traced down the slope until he came to a yawning glen - the grass baked yellow - and before him stood a sulking sow.

It turned a dark eye upon him, as if to say, I have broken many of your kind, what are you to me but another stone underfoot?

He lingered near it, even as the creature bowed its tusked face towards the dirt and began to trudge lethargically away, utterly indifferent to the wolf's presence. Revui did not know if he should feel insulted or not - but he was intrigued, and wondered if it would be worth the trouble to get a taste of the fat thing.