Redtail Rise good things die all the time

Eventually, Pura emerged.

When he did, it was barely morning. The weak, cold glow of a half-revved sun, struggling to penetrate the clouds, made the world look bleak and subtly post-apocalyptic. The breeze still carried a midnight chill in its clutches, and every shadow was dark. It was Pura's favourite time of day.

He had watched them all assemble - Saena, Junior, and their band of followers. Even on their first try, his sisters were doing well for themselves, and he did not begrudge them their success. It was not his place to lead or inspire - Pura understood that now.

A solitary life had thickened the muscles that bound Pura's enormous frame. Without a pack, there was precious little time to loiter, but there was also plenty of food - especially if your tastes were varied. He settled near the bottom of Saena's ridge, turning his broad, freckled muzzle up to stare up its sloping sides. Someone would be patrolling. Someone would see him.