It was, to Reyes’ utter shock, remotely pleasant when he peeled his eyes open that morning. The snow had stopped (thank fuck), there was no howling wind, and it seemed like even the snow was attempting to break through the permanent field of clouds overhead. It was with a dinkum smile that he’d greeted his mate that morning, kissing Askan’s muzzle and nose before dragging himself out in the world. If the weather was going to cooperate, he was going to actually explore the lowlands, for once (instead of skulking inside the borders of Wild Rye Fields miserably).
“I’ll be back tonight,” he assured @Askan, and then the swarthy male turned due north, and let his wandering paws take him wherever they pleased.
It was to be a very surprising day, it seemed, for those wandering feet took him to one of the strangest formations the man had ever seen. It might have remained him of home, had the snow not been covering the crater; still, it was with great intrigue that he circled around the mouth of the basin, unawares that his own pack members had been here not too long before. That Whitestone Monadnock was not far did not particularly irk him – all bad blood had been spilt long before his arrival in the fields. Today was a day for curiosity, not violence, and he intended to keep it as such.