Shadow Mountain Come on, lets go break their arms.

The forest was a place he now frequented when he needed time away from the valley. The pack was well fortified to begin with as there was only one way in or out, and the majority of the wolves within Ursus were warriors he held in high esteem. Revui felt superfluous there. However, he grew quickly bored with the slaying of foxes within the woods, and aside from prowling among the trees in the daylight, there wasn't much action to be had. He'd either killed or frightened the majority of the foxes in to darker segments.

While pursuing the alluring scent of blood-and-fox one evening, he discovered that he'd met the end of the forest where it rose up to become the foothills of the range. It was darker here than anywhere else, and as humid as the devil's armpit. Seeking fresh air, Revui continued to climb, and climb, and climb, until he'd spent hours finding a piecemeal avenue of ascension. It felt good to work his body this way — to taste the mountain air again, as if he belonged there.

Eventually he found a deeply set plateau that hung upon the side of the cliff like a wide-brimmed mushroom set in the side of a log. He hoisted himself partway at an odd angle, scrambled with his hindquarters, and then stood proudly at this precipice while looking out across the world. There wasn't much to see aside from the spires of trees descending towards the meadow, and distantly the rise of Ursus beyond that.

His heart was pounding in his ears, he was breathing raggedly, but felt more alive than he had in weeks.