So were we framed in the pristine beauty of winter’s grace, a most stunning portrait we must have made. I observed him, this male who had come calling at the edge of the world which was mine, as he beheld all that lay before him. While he gave me his attention as I approached and introduced myself, I did not miss the way his gaze was pulled back towards the snow capped peaks that towered behind me. I could not hide the smallest of smirks, for he was far from the first to be in awe of the spectacle that was Spirane’s range. Back and forth my tail brushed as it arched over my hindquarters, relaxing slightly as he gave his name and then proceeded to address me in regards to my homelands. The way he spoke was with a certain bravado, though not in a pompous manner. His words were wrapped in an accent foreign to me, different from any dialect I had heard before. My ears were not unaccustomed to hearing the voices of foreigners, in fact I rather enjoyed the differing tones and pitches adopted by those from the lands beyond Moladion’s northern edges. I thought, perhaps, it was what gave Sorcha’s stories that certain edge that so drew in the children of the mountain.

His desire to see the world from the point of view which I had first seen it when but a couple weeks old was an earnest one. There was just the smallest touch of youth in him, though it was buried beneath the scars that adorned his face and the maturity with which he stood before me. I was reminded for just a moment of the day when I had first met my speechless friend Reich, how I had been able to show him at least a small preview of what it was like to view the world from on high. Perhaps I could do much the same for this Rollo fellow as well. He had been drawn to my borders simply by the majesty of the mountains, and I could hardly deny him at least a taste of their glory. The allure of such elevation had been bred into my blood, and when I met another who was so taken with them, I was more than happy to gratify their desires.

“Come, take a walk with me,” I said, the coy smirk that had previously adorned my face unfurling into a welcoming smile. This late in winter it was impossible to reach the highest peaks of the mountain, the danger of avalanches and rocks slick with ice too tremendous. Not to mention the very depths of the snow that accumulated at such high altitudes. I waited but a moment for his reply before pivoting slightly so that he might accompany me; despite his honest face and my believing in his sincere intentions, I was not one to turn my back entirely on a stranger. But the movement was also made in a polite fashion so that we might make our way through the foothills side by side. I guided us towards a familiar trail that would begin our ascent, and spoke as we traversed through the snow. “The paths that lead to the highest points are impassible this time of the year, unfortunately. But come, we shall at least wet your appetite this day.”

I turned in towards the incline of the base of the mountain, picking out a trail that was slightly hidden behind a gathering of pines. Escorting Rollo up the familiar path, my warm eyes danced towards him, curious about this young male who had been, as he so eloquently put, lured to the mountains. “Tell me Rollo, what travels have brought you to the mountains of Spirane?” Whenever my sister Orca returned from her far flung adventures beyond Moladion she was laden with many stories to share with me. I wondered if Rollo might oblige my curiosity in much the same way as we began to work our way up the switch-backing trail that ascended the mountainside.