The wind carried a slight sting that afternoon. The boy did not know whether it was a product changing of season or his current altitude, but it was cold and thrilling and came with a force that threatened to knock him off his large paws. Squeezing his eyes shut against a particularly brutal gall, head tucking into the comfort of his own chest, the gangly pup teetered on his long legs for a moment before the wind backed down, and then a second longer as his body found its happy balance on the outcropping of rock high above his mother’s den on the mountainside.

With a merry wave of his tail, Hawthorne opened his eyes, his pale green gaze sweeping the rocky landscape that stretched out above him. Finding a good looking ledge he thought to be in range, the boy backed up as far as his current position would allow, his half-matched sand and earthy brown paws dancing slightly as he planned his approach. This was practice, after all, for his mother had promised an adventure this evening, and he would be nothing if not prepared. With his eyes pinned to the ledge above, the boy coiled his body, limbs quivering with anticipation. With a quick burst of energy, he left his rocky perch in an impressive lunge for the ledge above, his sandy forepaws catching the stone lip. However, he had, in fact, misjudged his jump, and he found himself lacking both the momentum and limb strength to pull himself up.

Determined still, Hawthorne gritted his teeth, letting out a small grunt of struggle as he clawed at the wall below the ledge with his earthy back paws, attempting to use whatever purchase he could get to help heave himself over the lip. With great effort, he managed to inch himself over enough to plant his elbows past the corner of the ledge, back end still scrambling for traction, but a faint sound on the wind caused the pup to freeze up, his eyes going wide and tall ears twitching around until they found better reception.

Oh, yep. Yeah, it was barely audible, but that was definitely his mother’s voice. Was it already time to go?

There was minor confusion in the boy’s expression as he looked around at his current situation, half hanging off this conquest of earth and stone, both wanting to finish what he started but also feeling an impatient tug toward his mother and that adventure she promised. With slight reluctance, Hawthorne let go, his lanky body tumbling down the short, rocky slope below and landing on the hillside in a heap of fur and limbs. Scrambling out of his own mess of sorts, the boy took off as fast as his awkwardly developing body would allow, tripping several times on his own paws as he careened down the rocky path back toward home. It wasn’t long before his mother came into sight and, beside her, Salem.

Fixing a bright smile on his face, Hawthorne came to a short stop at his mother’s paws and gave a shake, rock dust and dirt clouding around the three of them a moment before dissipating. “So we’re really going? All the way to the top?” he asked, unable to hide the excitement in his tone as he glanced between his mother and brother. “Wait… Where’s Thistle?”

Noticing they were one body short, Hawthorne’s pale green gaze darted around once more, a slight concern etched within. Without waiting for his mother or brother to answer, the boy took a jog around the den cite, nose to the ground. They weren’t going anywhere without Thistle.