There had to be a nearer way across the mountains than all the way up to the passable route near the Secluded Spring. With time running out every second, Ice had set out one evening, well-rested and well-fed, with a quick word to everyone that he would be back in a few days. He didn't want to drag the pack through Rissa's death route if he could avoid it, afraid of what memories it might spark in the trio who had tracked, and seen, her. Once Aniwaya had been eradicated nothing would stop them from moving, and truth to be told, Ice was relishing it. He was waiting for the time they would wipe those bastards out, and then they, too, would need an easy track across the mountain, unless they wanted to do the day-long, exhausting climb by the side of the peak, and start from Rissa's body. The thought of bringing strangers to her resting place made his gut clench — given the manner they ran rampant in the Lore, they shouldn't be too hard to track down on the other side. And then... His gaze darkened, and he heaved himself up a particularly steep section, pale legs flexing and pushing as he sprang up the rocky path. It seemed to be a track frequently used by mountain goats, which had worn the snow down and made it easy to follow, and so far it hadn't been terribly tricky to get up. If the trail took him onto too narrow ledges, or through long leaps, he'd find another way. He might be adept at moving in mountains, but he wasn't related to a goat.
Time wore on, and the clouds which had obnubilated the stars drew back, bathing the snow-covered mountainside in pale silver light. It was breathtakingly beautiful, and Ice paused for a moment just to drink it in, before continuing. It was nicer to take a well-used route for once, instead of plowing belly-deep in snow up the steep, craggy mountainside. Perhaps making a path was a bad idea by the goats, but he'd seen them move here; one whiff of predator, and they were off in the rough terrain, somehow running down the steep sides and jumping onto the rocky out-shoots. They were in no danger from clumsy wolves. Breathing heavily Ice kept laboring up the mountainside, and eventually ended up in a kind of flat landing. Perhaps three yards wide, and twenty yards long, on one side the mountain wall rose, and the other, a long way to fall. Ahead, the slope picked up again, and so did the path. About halfway across, though, the River wolf paused, and turned his head sideways. There was a gap in the walls... Curious, he drew closer, even as the sky began to lighten up in the east.
Into the shadow of the wall, and there, yes, an opening, a gateway of sorts; black nose quivered to old smells, and then he poked his muzzle through. Empty. The pale creature slipped inside, the snow largely undisturbed. A few solitary animals had been here, none recently, and none resident. Slowly his gaze swept, from the immediate information by his paws, and up, across the vast expanse of snow. Far and on it stretched, walled in by the tall, craggy rocks. Breathing quietly for fear of disturbing the sleeping pace Ice went deeper, marveling at it; the wind which blew outside barely stirred the snow here, and everything was nearly silent, save for the shuffle of his paws through the snow. And each minute he spent gawking at the scenery the sky grew brighter and brighter, until finally the sun slipped over the horizon and took his breath away and made him stop. Every crystal upon the snow's surface leaped into life, shimmering, sparkling, glowing bright like a carpet of stars.