His paws seemed to caress the rocky slopes of the mountain as the large male wove his way up. The day was warmer than the past week had been, and the golden male cast his eyes up briefly to the winter skies. No sign of a rolling grey cloud could be seen, and the male took relief in the fact that he would avoid another snow storm before trailing back to the River pack.


It was rare the regal wolf would explore the mountain, even when his uncle had resides upon it’s dangerous slopes. He had never enjoyed the treacherous heights, nor the biting wind that one was met with as altitude increased, nor did he have the patience or desire to ever reach the peak. Still, every so often it was a welcoming change of scenery, and that was what had brought him here today.


Casting his eyes back to the path ahead of him, Ruiko then noted the slender she-wolf not far from him. Her own eyes seemed placed upon the landscape that spanned out below them, and the Tainn could note her age; she was a yearling, just like Kinis. Uttering a low ‘woof’ of greeting, lest he scare her otherwise, Ruiko blinked lightly in her direction, more open to a conversation with a stranger than he had been before.

The female caught his presence before he could warn her of it, and his ears swiveled forward as she voiced her own greeting. Stoical eyes swiftly flickered across the she-wolf, his muzzle canting as she apologized for potentially crossing over his borders.


“No need to apologize – these aren’t my borders,” he informed, his own tone gruff. He didn’t even have any borders… yet. “I’m Ruiko,” he offered in a return introduction, his tail giving an idle flick before his muzzle gestured toward the mountain. “Best be careful up here. There’s rumors of mountain lions up in this part of Relic Lore.”

The mention of mountain lions seemed to grasp the girl’s attention, and the exuberated confidence from such a young girl almost drew a small smirk to the male’s lips. Blinking stoically at her, the wolf lifted his shoulders in a shrug, commenting no further on the topic of such predators. He had given her a fair warning; hopefully she would heed his words and be careful during her travels along the dangerous slopes of the mountain. After all, the Mountain of Dire had its name for a reason.


Her question caused his gaze to cast into her vision for a moment, noting how the lone wolves he stumbled across the past few weeks were curious to the packs of the area. It seemed winter was placing some pressure on the rogues. “Swift River pack,” he commented, his muzzle inclining down the slopes to the direction of his brother’s pack. “For now, anyway.”