Ouroboros Spine out of the races and onto the tracks

Weather: -7°F (feels like -22°F, holy shit), partly cloudy until this evening.

The temperature had dropped to the levels that Dune recalled growing up in. The frigid air nearly bit right through his thick arctic coat, but considering he'd been more well-fed these past few days, and now that he had the security of the pack, he felt it important to explore the land immediately surrounding his new home. Letting out a quick, short howl to let others know he would be back soon (and that anybody was welcome to join him), Dune departed Moonspear for the first time as a true member of the mountain. He felt a sense of belonging there, and he was confident things were looking up for him.

For once, the skies were not dumping snow on him, and it was clear enough to see another mountain not too far off. He actually mistook it for the mountain he had seen just a couple of days back to the south, still not quite honing in on his internal compass. He set off for it, curious to see what sorts of hidden treasures it held. He headed into the wind, squinting his eyes against the icy cold.

it was cold the day he set to leave the endless spire, with biting wind nipping his neck and heels as he shouldered against winter's breath. the mountains were cold and desolate and the wind carved down their jagged faces in hyperborean song. against the grey-blotted sky the mountains rose like bruised stone, capered by worn-thin blankets of snow.

he had picked his way down a goat's footpath in hopes of finding some form of shelter, for it was a day where both prey and predator affirmed their existence by taking refuge from the bitter cold. as he pulled himself over a wind-worn column of granite the slope spilled beneath him for miles and he saw a white form hurled against the shrieking wind. his nose twitched in displeasure for the wind was against him and would surely notify the pale predator of his presence. he elected then to stand his guard, quietly watching the white wolf embark with his eyes trained solemnly on the wolf's approach.

That itchy feeling of being watched was soon combined with a familiar smell: coyote. Dune had encountered a few during his travels, and although he had no personal qualms with them, they did tend to be feisty. He had killed one not long ago (after one of his own kind had startled it out of hiding), and he had feasted on its flesh for sustenance. This coyote would have no clue about that, but it did linger on Dune's mind when he noticed his dark genetic cousin.

Dune was not one to provoke others who left him alone, so he merely kept a watchful eye on the smaller canine as he continued toward the flat-topped landform.

an impassive expression stole across his muzzle as he briefly made eye-contact with the superior predator. there was no shift in the wolf's posture that ich'aak could discern, and he remained on guard in case this wolf was like others he had met - deceptive. his ears remained strained forward and he tilted his nose into the wind futilely as he tried to decipher both the scents and intentions of this male.

between the storm-splattered sky and the thin cloak of snow he stood out plainly, a black mark against subdued white and blue. if the male continued past him, he could count his blessings --however, if the wolf turned towards him, ich'aak was prepared.

Dune continued to prepare for the worst (and hope for the best). It did not seem as though the dark coyote would be doing anything... stupid, for lack of a better term. Happy to ignore and be ignored, Dune picked up his pace, putting a wide berth between the other creature and himself. Perhaps this plan would have worked flawlessly, but as chance would have it, a third party came into play. Smack dab between them went a racing rabbit and giving only a split-second glance to the other predator, Dune darted after it, intent on having the meal for himself.

he remained motionless atop his stony post as the pale figure cut through the landscape -- he caught the sight of a rabbit and while his instinct bid him fiercely to obey the chase, he denied it. ich'aak was no fool - a wolf was in every measure his enemy and superior. he had no hope in besting a creature twice his body weight, and he reminded himself of that cold fact as he reined in his desire to give into the chase. unless dune died right then and there from a cataclysmic aortic rupture, there was no way ich'aak would secure that hare.

he watched as the male made for the hapless creature. his stomach rumbled but he did not cave to his more basal instinct. the hare was simply not his to kill -- and he did not interfere besides offering a loud 'BORK' intended to spook the hare enough to distract it.

Dune's muscles propelled him forward as he went after the long-legged animal, but when he went in for the kill, his jaws snapped shut on nothing but air, and he could sprint no longer. The rabbit escaped (likely due to the BORK), and Dune panted, watching it disappear to safety while he was left with an empty stomach. He huffed, but Dune knew he had all day to hunt and find food to bring back to his new home. The coyote was a long ways back, and after one final glance to the lingering dark creature, Dune began to jog away in the direction of the mountain.

the wolf -- and its quarry -- dashed off in a thick flurry of snow. he lifted his muzzle skyward, trying to assess the wolf's success from his vantage. already the white male's figure was obscured by the slope -- with a wary sense of curiosity he slid down from the jagged boulder and slid into a steady lope.

the tracks were easy enough to follow, and as he followed further the hare's diverged suddenly -- yet the wolf's kept going. he slowed his step to a stealthy walk and with ears pressed forward, trailed behind the white wolf like a distant (and probably annoying) shadow.