Sawtooth Spire i'm heading straight for the castle

Storm clouds had been gathering overhead, growing darker and more foreboding with each passing hour. Greyson knew better than to ignore the signals. Rain was most certainly on its way, and the lone wolf would be wise to seek shelter to avoid that worst of it.

The tundra had seemingly stretched on forever, but Greyson had perservered with his travels in a northern direction knowing that at some point other features would appear along the horizon. He hadn't known how long his journey was destined to be, but upon spotting the jagged peaks of a foreign mountain range, the male was nonetheless relieved. 

The grey wolf's pace quickened, the thrill and excitement of his discovery suddenly making him numb to the burning ache in his muscles and limbs. Greyson advanced onwards, managing to scale the jagged stones and rocks which guarded the base of the mountain slope, just in time.

A loud thunderous grumble echoed down from the dark grey clouds above, and a moment later rain. Thick and heavy, the raindrops battered his body, quickly turning his thick warm coat sodden and slick against his masculine frame. Cold grey eyes searched desperately now beneath the long shadow of the mountain for a place to shelter, moving further up the mountain until he stumbled upon the scent laid down by a pack.

Greyson knew to proceed any further would be criminal. Trespass was not something to be taken lightly. He remained still for a moment contemplating his next move, the harsh rain still beating down on him, before he tilted his head back to the sky and howled.