Assertive golden hues indulged themselves as the exuberant male sauntered - delicate snow flakes clung to his ebony coat. Ominous clouds shadowed him overhead, rendering the sun's rays useless as they failed to penetrate them. Jesear's muscles rippled under his pelt as he padded along. His large paws sunk into the tiny, white devils that piled upon each other. Halting beneath a large Conifer, the Valley Wolf shook out his shaggy fleece. Dipping his bulky dome, he sniffed at the opposing ice coating the ground. A series of scents plagued his nose as he did so, picking up distinct scents that caused his ears to twitch. Allowing his dome to remain low, he stalked under the hundreds of Conifers that managed to offer him temporary shelter from the frigid weather. A raven's distinct call sounded above him, a warning for unprotected prey that may lurk near. Huffing into the snow, he sneezed at the particles inhaled by his action.
The Mountain of Dire was one that the young brute had yet to explore; even so, it seemed that the Mountain was that of a scared, undiscovered place. The landscape stretched well above his head, even as he was a rather exuberant wolf - standing taller than most his kind. Shaking out his pelt once more, he strained his harks to reach their maximum field of hearing. Only petty rushed movements of inferior mammals caught his attention, but soon he found himself ignoring them. Ruins of Wildwood was new. Jesear was eager to start anew, masking his past with the present. An opening in the forest ascended his dome upward, golden orbs taking in everything but giving away nothing. Scanning the clearing, he hesitated before descending forth.