Cassiopeia's View Pétra

A single rock slipped from beneath the wolf’s paw. Arsenio felt his weight shift rapidly, threatening to swing him forward and down the rocky slope. He swung himself sharply, gritting his teeth together until a pressure popped in his head, and steadied his footing. The stone beneath his paws was fragile, crumbling away.

The sound of a man’s voice drifted across the rocky climb. Arsenio drew his ears to a point and turned toward it. Cold blue eyes fell on the golden agouti shape of an older male. The stranger looked as though he traveled alone, as well.

Naí, I am alone.