Nova Peak oh, but it's long.

@White Feather @Winter Hawk

he dreams of something strange that night. two mates at each other's throat.

the reason dying to nothing as he awakes, cold and shuddering.

his path carries him out into a frost-rimned peak stiff with recent travel. he rests well outside, loosening a howl that carries for miles along a grey-capped sky.

winter hawk answers the call without delay.

he comes up the peak with white feather close at his side, their steps matched, their scents braided by habit now. frost rims the stone beneath them, pressed thin by recent travel, and the sky hangs low and grey above.

he lifts his head and answers, calling forward to let the male know there were others here, carrying back along the grey sky.

he settles beside white feather when the echoes fade, shoulder brushing hers.

white feather let me know if not okay to assume they went together <3

barreling in on the wind comes a male’s voice rich with timbre. sky breaker considers the weight of this; as a fellow male, he could be driven off or seen as a competitor. 

somewhere along the ridge above he hears footsteps in tandem. 

he knows the truth of winter — it has but only started. his survivability was unlikely without the strength of the pack to bolster him. 

he ranges south, respectful of the many scent markers, but close enough his scent would carry to the pair on the peak.

Totally ok!

A moon ago, White Feather, upon the Rise, had called out a seeking song.

Now, a new voice on the wind. It was a lonely one from a distant peak.

Winter Hawk, by her side, replied. The she-wolf stood still and listened for the faraway male’s next chorus… but it did not come.

But then — ! A scent carried by the Taiga.

White Feather tipped her head back to add a second verse to White Hawk’s song.

We’re here, the spirit sang.

Then, with a glance to Winter Hawk, she descended to their borders to find him.

winter hawk holds the high ground as the wind shifts.

the stranger’s scent reaches him clean and cautious, kept just shy of the heaviest marks. respect. need. the cold already working its way into bone. he reads it all in one breath.

when the echoes thin, he follows at her shoulder as she moves downslope, steps matched, presence firm. his tail lifts to a neutral flag, visible even at distance.

he does not bare his teeth.

he watches the male approach and waits for white feather’s lead.

soon the winds that carried so many voices would claw at stone, at fur, at flesh.

and if he -- and those walking down the path above -- was lucky, the wind would be at his back, and the ground beneath him firm.

another note presses from the cold. he stops at a segment of ice-capped stone where above, twin shadows darken the snow in hues of pastel and indigo.

two wolves. the voices on the wind. he notes the posture of the male first, the tail held just so. the female's expression is open yet steady.

the language here clearer than any cut on stone.

sky breaker's posture lowers, an invitation for inspection.