Weary limbs and elbows, having grown accustomed to the softness of soil, sand, and loam, ached as the Advisor of Nomads Pass sank down into a sphinx-like position on the wind-scoured stone that made up the packlands. In the shade of a single tree that grew alone on the cliffs overlooking one side of Relic Lore, he sighed contentedly to himself. Another spring storm was coming but it was apparent in the air and the gentleness of the breeze that no thunder would accompany it as it had the last time the rains had come. He was supposed to be resting after having returned Datura home, but with Naira due sometime in the next couple of weeks or so, he felt better in knowing that she was somewhere resting while he refurbished the markers that had gone unattended to in his absence. The sooner he got back to his regular routine, the better.
With Taima Lyall as his self-proclaimed ward - he had found her with Datura, after all, and could only accept the responsibility in making sure she learned the ways of the Pass backwards and forwards - he felt the need to recollect himself now that he was back on familiar soil. Truth be told, Datura was right... the girl talked a lot and Mapplethorpe had to fully recoup before he even attempted the task of grooming her into a proper, more suitable mate for Naira's first-born son. Ever so slowly, he rested his silvery chin between his wrists, leaning his head slightly into his left forelimb. Behind him his ragged tail swept one way then another before pressing up against his right hock.
Mapplethorpe's yellow-ringed pupils disappeared behind mousy-brown lids as he exhaled. It seemed for a while his lack of sleep had finally caught up to him, but he jolted himself awake within mere seconds of closing his eyes. Twice. Scenting the air offhandedly as he lifted his head again, he drew his ears upward, wiling himself to stay awake. A shake of his ruff seemed to do the trick and with pushing himself up into a rather regal sitting position, he scanned the slopes below the ledge, watching and listening for passing rogues, wayward intruders, or even fellow pack mates.