How long had it been since the last time he was here? Teketa wouldn't pretend he didn't know; he wouldn't pretend he didn't remember, in perfect detail, the events that had altered his way of living so drastically. Just when he believed his life was at least livable, it sank into hadal depths darker than his fur.

The black wolf had been moving steadily - if a little slowly - up the rise. He limped steadily; his left foreleg was healing well, but even so, muscle could not be easily mended. His limb was weak... but he couldn't complain. It was usable. @Sloane and his pack's healer had seen to it that his forelimb would heal. They had seen to his survival... he owed Whisper Caverns his life. But at heart he still was not comfortable. At heart... he wondered if he shouldn't cross the mountains. He remembered the words, so many moons ago now, of a white she-wolf, welcoming, beckoning...

Perhaps that was why he was here, at the foot of the mountains. Or perhaps it was to remember that day. It was on this very rise where he had been wounded. Where he had been unjustly attacked by a foul woman calling herself Vittani. She claimed it was mercy... but her attack intended to kill. She had maimed him and left him for dead with scarcely a word. He would never forget.

Teketa seated himself on the hillside. At least it didn't look the same. That almost made it easier. He'd almost say it was beautiful - there were flowers blooming now where there had been nothing but mush and brown grass before. But he'd never be able to quite enjoy this scenery or location again. Downtrodden, he dipped his head to look at one of those red flowers - bright as his blood had been that morning - and then pressed his nose to the fragile darling. He huffed softly and watched it sway to his breath as he mused: how could anyone be so very wicked? How could he ask himself that however, knowing what he knew? Nose crinkling with bitterness, he withdrew from the blossom to regard the blue sky overhead.