Bearclaw Valley thanatophobia

slight tw for death stuff

Do you ever question your mortality?

Oftentimes, as he skirted the towering walls of the valley, the wolf thought of what his death would be like. Perhaps a boulder would come loose and land on his head like some unfortunately timed piano. Or his throat would be gored by the antlers of a deer. Maybe one of his kind would sever the artery that gave life to his brain.

It was times like these that the ironclad wished he had some sort of way of predicting the future. Despite the knowledge that such a thing was impossible, the thought kept him moving onward, until he came across a vaguely familiar trail. He thought of brown-hunter and decided to follow it if only to satiate his morbid curiosity.