Mount Everfall the mongrel ghosts of my heart

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taneleer lingers close to the base of mount everfall ( though the ash and smoke born beast does not know it's name ). he could climb higher — has taken to higher ground — when he wishes to prowl from the treacherous and craggy outcroppings of rock. he likes the view from up high. there is something about the valleys and forests and hills being spread out before him as far as the eye can see that gives the temporarily illusion of being king of it all. or, more dangerous yet, a god. for surely this is what they see when they look out upon the world. everything is small beneath them. the wind is merciless from that height and more frigid the higher one climbs. when it became to strong to comfortably traverse and he ventures down to the base, flirting the line between outcropping and forest that lines the mount.

something catches taneleer's eye below: an unmoving mound of white blossomed with crimson. he picks his way down quickly, eager to investigate as his stomach rumbles with hunger. hunting big game isn't favorable on his own and the mountain goat that had fallen to it's death — it smacked it's head against a jutting edge of rock on it's downfall, taneleer notes as he inspects it — is a lucky find. he wastes no time digging into the small feast before him, stripping flesh from splintered bone with a gluttony that blurs the line into ravenous. he is hungry and the goat is still warm, it's meat fresh.

it's been some time since he's eaten like a king ...and after scraping by on half eaten carcasses and small woodland creatures this mountain goat is a feast fit for a king to him.