Mountain of Dire Be Still

He had not thought to go far from the Spectral Woods, though still knowing it would only be a matter of time before he got the itch to explore again. He wouldn't go far, he'd told himself, and he'd only be gone a few days. Larkspur hadn't bothered to tell anyone, preferring to go on his little jaunt alone. He'd found a mountain a little ways north of Oak Tree Bend and decided to climb it to escape the constant sound that came with living in a more greener area. As the liveliness of the forest turned to snow and rock, the constant buzz of insects and birdsong came to a comfortable hault. He hadn't seen another wolf since his departure, and being alone for those few days made him feel refreshed. Knowing he'd be heading back to the dark woods that he called his home, he spent little time thinking of his future, and less time thinking of his purpose.

It felt better to concentrate on the snow between his toes and the cold in his lungs. Larkspur felt at peace, not allowing himself to go into his own mind. It felt like it had been ages since he was a loner, but for a short time he would be. Scaling the mountain had been no easy feat, and Larkspur had only made it some of the way up before deciding that it wouldn't be so wise to work his way completely up the mountain. This was supposed to be a small trip and he didn't want @Sahalie to bombard him with meaningless questions when he returned.

With the Mountain of Dire's many sudden drops and unsteady footholds, it wasn't easy up or down. A mountain goat, dead and frozen with a broken neck, was a good reminder of it. Larkspur jumped from the small cliff and towards the creature. It was a small blessing and a good ending to his trip. He grabbed the thing by the horns and pulled it a safe distance away from the next drop, his tail happily wagging as he tore into the thing's stomach.

@Reyes

(This post was last modified: Sep 28, 2016, 03:29 PM by Larkspur.)

There was that smell. That smelly smell, identifiable by any wolf with a nose. Difficult to pass up for any man, but downright foolish to ignore if he was a lone wolf. Meals were few and far between – and a free meal, just a short gander away? Why, that was practically a gift from the forest itself (well, if Reyes was inclined to believe in such things.)

(He wasn’t, generally. Didn’t change his intentions, however.)

The swarthy male moved quickly across the treacherous slope, his feet padding as quickly as he dared. Ears were on a swivel, eyes carefully tracking each rock and crevasse – but no matter how quickly he moved, it seemed Reyes just wasn’t swift enough to reach the dead mountain goat before another scavenger. It was no lone coyote, either, no crow easily chased off with a bark.

Hackles rose and the wolf’s tail flung high over his back as he slowed his approach, teeth bared in an ugly snarl. “Lágate!” he grunted, slipping back into his first language in the heat of the moment. That the stranger wouldn’t understand the word was meaningless – the tone should convey everything. If it didn’t, his charge should, his every intention to ram the pale wolf and send him topping away from the free feast.