Razorback Ridge Burning Hot

Upon his initial attempt at returning home, Screech realized he would have to cross through the center of the valley and come dangerously close to both the meadow where he'd been grabbed, and the forest from where he'd been lost. The prospect of venturing near either of these places made his skin crawl. So, after his brief interlude of rest, he chose a random direction that opposed the caldera, and was off again. The boy's path intersected with a half-frozen river that took some thought to cross, and then he was met with the beautiful rolling vista that was the Hoshor Plains; although the name eluded him, Screech found himself glad to have gotten this far despite the darkening sky.

The dark clouds he had witnessed earlier looked thinner than before - as if they were being pulled apart - but maybe the strong currents of wind merely tugged the clouds away from his path. He wondered if it would snow again or if the clouds would have to collect first - and before long, with his mind directed at the sky rather than the land around him or the path he followed, he lost track of time. Screech paused when he found himself overlooking a small ravine; it dropped out across a series of plateaus, then rose again along a ridge of shale, becoming a range of mountains that stretched on for - well, he presumed, forever.

He breathed deeply of the mountain air, and as he turned to survey the uneven terrain which he had just climbed (wondering if perhaps he could see home from this vantage point), he caught sight of a dark figure among the angled trees. Immediately the boy's fur began to prickle and fluff up, and he scrutinized the figure as it moved along. He wasn't close enough to get a good look at the stranger - and in a bold move (perhaps to confront his own fears), he began to pursue them.