Redtail Rise We are close to war.

Rutting season came to the Rise. Riley could not help the energy that coursed through him, electrified by each rising call of the bulls.

More than once he watched them as they fought; first, they stalked towards each other with their heads impossibly high — their crown of thorny antlers scraping clouds —

Then, seemingly without warning their heads dropped and they charged noiselessly, spears thrust towards the heart of their targets. Then came their grunts and struggles. Sometimes, the earth was torn under their cutting hooves. Sometimes, flesh was torn instead.

The rutting season produced brilliant wastage for the intrepid wolf. Already, stags were weakened and does chased to the edge of exhaustion. Riley didn’t plan to hunt today, despite the plentiful opportunity. His energy was better served in finding @Masquerade — he followed her scent as it wove in and out of frost-studded fields, no doubt tracking the bucks in the height of their rut.