The Sunspire immune to this

faust stood at the edge of the mountain spire, the wind howling around him like a restless spirit. the sharp bite of the cold air clung to his fur, but he didn’t flinch; the chill was a familiar companion here. his piercing green eyes scanned the jagged peaks that stretched across the horizon, a sea of stone and snow, unforgiving and eternal.

the world below was shrouded in mist, the valleys hidden like secrets whispered between the mountains. faust liked it here, where the air was thinner and the silence heavier. there was no pretense on the spires—just survival, raw and unyielding.

he lowered himself onto his haunches, the weight of his frame settling against the frozen rock. his breath puffed out in clouds as he watched the sky shift, the faint glow of the sun struggling to pierce through the gray haze. here, he could think, untangle the knots that the world below seemed so determined to weave.

but even as the solitude wrapped around him, faust knew it wouldn’t last. the mountains had a way of drawing wanderers, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was waiting—for what, he didn’t yet know.

marauder scaled a jagged staircase of broken cliffside in pursuit of a bighorn sheep. he'd run down the ram half a day earlier, but the uneven terrain and gusts of wind had made the hunt less than favorable. his prey had found freedom, though the soldier sought to ensure this was only temporary. 

nature proved an opponent in this hunt, the trail fading now due to snowdrift and passed time. blood ran dry while the footpath turned cold. 

fatigued now from the climb and short of breath due to the altitude, marauder sought to hunker down for a short time. his path pushed him upward still, a new scent found in the drifting wind of the mountain steeple. and to this he followed, straight to the hazy silhouette of a nameless figure.

faust stood at the mountain's edge, his green eyes cutting through the misty haze as the stranger approached. the silhouette sharpened with each step, revealing a wolf of weathered strength—scarred, rugged, his physique that of a soldier honed through battle. broad-shouldered and lean, the stranger carried himself with an air of superiority, though faust could tell at a glance: this was no creature born of the peaks.

the northerner didn’t move, his stance relaxed but purposeful, a figure etched from the very stone beneath him. the wind howled between them, carrying the faint scent of fatigue and the lingering essence of blood. faust’s sharp gaze flicked to the stranger’s frame, noting the signs of exertion, the heaviness of his breath, and the telltale marks of a hunt gone awry.

you’re far from home, faust called out, his voice low and steady, cutting cleanly through the thin air. he didn’t step forward, letting the mountain itself fill the space between them. you have a death wish? or lost, or just stubborn?

the faintest flicker of a smirk tugged at his lips, though his posture remained firm, a silent declaration that this was his domain. the mountain bore no mercy for outsiders, and neither would he—not until he knew what the stranger sought.

the shadow spoke, and marauder brought his steps to an anchored halt. there he sought the wind, nose wriggling to fill his lungs of his mountain top companion. a mental pen quickly scribbled the position of the sun, of the stranger, of the way the wind blew. of the distance between them, of the emptiness of the surrounding air and of any necessary escape routes. 

he noted the way the man spoke, of his stone-etched confidence. marauder deemed him a cliffwalker. a low rumbled brewed in the solider's chest at the questions, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "all of the above?" he challenged with a teasing glimmer of pearly teeth.

he planted his paws firm and stood as a gargoyle atop this stone summit.

faust didn’t flinch as the stranger stopped, the faint smirk tugging at the other’s lips met with an unreadable expression. his green eyes narrowed slightly, studying the man with the precision of a hunter sizing up prey. the teasing words rolled off him like the mountain wind, neither provoking nor amusing him outright.

bold answer, faust replied, his tone smooth, edged with a faint chill. but boldness doesn’t carry much weight up here. the mountain’s got a way of humbling even the surest of men.

he shifted his weight slightly, his stance loose but deliberate, ready to pivot at a moment’s notice. the faint smirk tugging at the stranger’s lips didn’t escape him, but faust wasn’t one to be drawn into games—not without knowing the stakes.

a thick and wild gust of wind swept by, sweeping up snowfall toward the sky only to have it trickle back down as fresh flurries. marauder remained steadfast, a shift of his paws given as the cliffwalker spoke words that tumbled down the mountain ridge and to the creeping shadows below. 

bold. marauder had not thought himself so. the warrior rolled an aching shoulder and lowered his gaze to pierce through the deadpan stare of his companion. "the mountain humbles, yet it sits us atop the world." he assumed a cliffwalker would know this truth well. 

marauder could not remember much of the place he'd taken his first breath in this life, but he knew it not upon shale or limestone. his shared company looked as if he might bleed stone if cut, and marauder wondered then if the man had always sat the lonely throne atop the summit.

faust held his ground against the mountain’s howl, the wild gusts tugging at his fur but failing to move him. his green eyes remained steady on the stranger, unyielding as the other wolf spoke. the words carried weight, but faust let them linger in the cold air, his expression unreadable.

the mountain shows us the world, he replied, his voice low, carrying the quiet strength of stone grinding against stone. but it also shows us how small we are.

his gaze flicked briefly to the horizon, where the peaks stretched endlessly, their jagged edges lost in the swirling flurries. you can sit atop the summit all you want. doesn’t change the fact that it’s the wind, not us, that carves these cliffs.