Ghost Lion Crag Upward over the mountain

Antares went nowhere in any hurry, and chose to peruse the landscapes--for interests, and as ever prey he could hope to catch. His routes these days often zigged and zagged, winding around while he sought to expend his energy, and then some.

For today, the summer's heat hung humid and heavy, doing motivation few favors especially for someone as dark as he. The scout kept his head low as he jogged slow, at least until a hawk's cry pulled at his ears--drawing a glance skyward. Ultimately, it was likely none of his business, so he continued on soon enough, but slower this time, and panting over a lolling tongue; at least for now. He could pick up the pace later.

Working his way along and turning a bend, he then spied motion ahead, tan-shaded against the stone, aiming roughly his way. Antares gave his own pause, considering that if he continued, they might intersect given the other's cruising speed. At least this way he could observe what appeared to be another coywolf, or coyote even, potentially. He didn't particularly trust their sort, as a rule, but as a fellow rogue himself, he had little to be guarded about so he watched eerily for more from his spot.