A haze drifts across the dust that have settled across the rocks. The summer has saddled its heat on the backs of all, and Fritjof has started seeking shade as a hiding spot away from the mid day heat. Whatever errands he had planned would have to wait. Even with his winter coat long shed, he feels boiled, trapped in a ball of fur and fire. He spots a cool place to lay, and scratches the surface to expose the cooler dirt beneath, and lays down nonchallantly, panting slightly to cool his insides. He sees others around, perhaps resting in the Crags for the same reason he is. Being caught out in the hot sun, pushing through is just a fool's errand. Better to wait for the sun start to set and drag the summer air with it.
The others may chat. For once Fritjof has little interest in conversing. The heat has made him weary, and he turns to day dreams instead. Stories of the others fill his head, not true, but amusing, just imaginings. Perhaps they belonged to another pack, but he did not recognize them, though some seemed to recognize each other. He keeps a lazy eye out, but for now none have caught his interest. |