He had grown quite fond of the mountain haven that his mother’s group had stumbled upon. The ebony boy was determined to explore as much of the area as possible, for he wanted to be properly acquainted with the new terrain if it was where they were going to set up camp. However, his paws still craved more, especially being in an unfamiliar area of the Lore. He still needed to head further south, back to the willows, to see how his friend was doing. Cyril worried about her more than he cared to admit, especially since their last conversation. Adeltra had mentioned the possibility of war breaking out between the southern packs; the result of miscommunication and a missing cub. Unfortunately the boy had been kept busy in the mountain. He was skirting the nearby territories, searching for wayward souls to join their group (even though he wasn’t interested in being social) and getting familiar with the land.
During one of his adventures south the boy had skirted the falls; not paying them much attention until now. He liked sticking close to the rugged terrain of the mountain, for he was growing more accustom to the snow covered rocks. However, the boy was a little leery as he made his way through the trees, for he worried he would encounter the creep that had stalked him through the trees almost a month prior. Cyril had no intentions of encountering the weirdo a second time and this time he kept his guard up.
Most of the waterfall was frozen now, along with the pool of water that gathered at its base. He could still hear the water flowing beneath, which made him cautious as he approached the edge of the frozen pool. Yellow eyes scanned his frosted surroundings, a cloud of mist hovering in front of his nose as his hot breath met the frigid air. For now, he was alone.
For now, he was content.