Ice Mountain

The Ice Mountain is much smaller than Wolf Mountain, yet climbing up it is far more difficult and shouldn't be attempted in winter. Some creatures collect the shiny stones at the peak of this mountain for necklaces.

my life..my life..
IP: 216.220.216.152
Posted on August 28, 2009 at 11:11:35 PM by wingfoot

Wingfoot had never been exactly normal. All her life she had been frail and suffered from abandonment issues. Her mother had never really been around. And her father had been a sorry replacement. Since Strider was a gruff sort and he cared mostly about his son. Those two had spent nearly all their time doing father-son things and Wingfoot stayed at the den and played with feathers and sticks.

When she grew up she was a beauty in brown and gold. She had the most stunning gold fur with long brown limbs and a brown stripe down her back ending in a black tipped tail. She was long, lithe, and lovely. And blessed with the most enchanting bottle green eyes. It had been no trouble for her to find a husband.

But he too had been a wanderer and Wingfoot had decided suicide was a better alternative than life alone. She had stood poised on a cliff over the hunting grounds, fully intending to fling herself to her death.

Her beloved Dogstar collie, Sirius, had saved her. And the love she felt for him, even in her old age, would never diminish.

When her mate returned she went psycho on him and went to Sirius. She had never looked back since.

Although she was a bit of a hypocrite to herself in the end though. Sirius was the biggest wanderer of them all. But her children brought her immense comfort. And Sirius always returned in her most desperate hour, whether he was real or spirit didn't matter. He was there. And wolf mountain was filled to bursting with his legacy.

The instant she had stepped paw back on mountain soil she had smiled, actually smiled. And the memories came flying back.

A surge of youth had come to her old bones and she had run around visiting all her old haunts. The cliff where she had met Sirius. The den in the hunting ground where her pups were born.. This brought back so many memories she spent the night there.

But today she was up, and high on the peaks of ice mountain watching the sunrise. As the colors changed in the sky, their pretty pastel hues blending, she was reminded of her dear love. Sirius was as magnificent, and free as the skies themselves. And just as mysterious. And whether he ever did return or not, for her heart there would never be another. And goodness forbid he had moved on, Wingfoot would likely crumble into a pile of dust.

But she never let that thought enter her mind. Sirius loved her. He told her so. And the dogstar never lied.

Sunrise progressed. Bringing with it a bitter wind. It wrapped around the old wolfess, playing in her ruff. But it was not strong enough to pierce her thick undercoat. But the ice it carried left frosted diamonds on the tips of her guard hairs so she shimmered like a phantom in the growing light.

She was torn from her reverie by the sound of a claw sruck stone. Visitors? Here. She frowned. She had chosen this peak for its seclusion. But the scents riding on the cold wind were unmistakable. Visitors. They would spot her soon, surely, if they continued on their present path. Wingfoot perked her ears in the direction of the footfalls, and waited.

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