Qeya River i can kill with my own hands

it is early as wintersbane diverts from his patrol; following the teasing of the pastel colors of the dawning day from the small patch of woodland that he claims to the woodlands of the qeya river. he seeks the serpentine banks of the river; drawn to the chilled waters, with its chunks of icemelt from glacier. he pauses for a few moments to sate his thirst; welcoming the coolness of the freshwater.

the sun has yet to crest the horizon but already the air is soupy and thick with the coming rains. it curls the longer hairs at his nape; the smell of distant rain lingering upon the air. it is almost enough to convince wintersbane to return to his claim, to inspect and explore greyfall caverns in the hopes of finding a central denning area for the pack.

but with the new lives coming ever closer to being born, wintersbane is hard to pull from the borders and neighboring territories of the glacier; patrolling them with a singleminded obsession.