March 25th; Afternoon; Light Snow; 31.6 ° F, -0.22 ° C.
When a storm had whipped up the mountain range, Adelard had already scaled the peaks of Serpent's Pass. What could have taken three days, took five days for the middle-aged wolf. Snow had begun to drift down upon the Lore. It gathered along his nape and stuck to his brow and whiskers. If anything else, Adelard meandered along driven by instinct and the need to see his mate. The coupling season was coming to a close and there was a jealous part of him that had to ensure Woya's fidelity.
The spring thaw had exposed bits of nightshade poked through the fresh blanket of snow. Some bright green buds that had grown early now wilted in the sudden bite of frost.
Adelard let out a sigh as he eyed the old den that had once belonged to the Poison Path wolves. There were some traces left of their occupancy but not very many. A few claw marks, a place or two where caches had been dug up, pack highways where the nightshade had been cleared...
Much like he had back at Fools Gold Chasm, he took a deep stretch and began to settle down for the evening. Tomorrow, he would continue his journey and, hopefully, the snow would let up by then.