The Mountain of Dire: majestic and rather perilous. Everywhere was an opportunity to misjudge a step and somersault down the rocky slope. Borden, being cautious and determined to find a good spot to scout out the territory he had navigated through to get to the foot of the mountain, stood a good ways up the grand landmark. Pressing his side against a large boulder as he glanced down the stony pathway he had climbed, he exhaled in relief. He had made it this far, just a little bit more climbing would probably be sufficient to survey the land... and scout for places where there could be water.

He raised his head, allowing his pale golden eyes to search for the next set of ideal steps. Okay, perhaps he should have foreseen himself getting stuck. The boulder he had practically glued himself to was too tall to jump over, let alone climb, and the only way he could go was back down the way he came. If he had been born with brows, they would have knitted together in pure frustration. Oh, well… Lowering himself onto his hindquarters, he looked over the bit of mountainside he could see. He wasn’t high enough to see over the forest, but through the trees, he could already spot the sun as it rose over the cool autumn morning.

His thin frame leaned against the rock at his side, and with a lift of his stocky hind limb, he scratched at the matted fur along his shoulder. The strenuous traveling he had been doing for a little over a year had taken its toll on not just his mind, but his appearance as a whole. All four paws were filthy and thoroughly rugged (nails, pads and all…), his tail and underbelly had taken up a brownish hue from the dirt and grime, and the lack of water made his nose nearly lusterless.

So far, since he had arrived into the area, he had failed to actively search for water and mentally map its location. He figured his hunger and poor diet that consisted of only small rodents and his frantic need to communicate with other wolves was simply getting the best of him. In his attempts to search for others, he also figured he would have stumbled upon a creek or a pond or a lake. Unfortunately, his endeavors had all been futile; every pool, every creek bed, every impression in the ground deep enough to become a decent-sized puddle, dry.