It was still dark when he reached the horizon, soft waves of brisk mountain air playing at inky locks as the behemoth reached the peak. Small sparks of light danced on the horizon, toying with the idea of lighting the day and breaking into newness. Even in his bellicose nature, the man could take in the breathtaking wonder that was a sunrise. His golden eyes flecked with wonder, taking in the scene being painted before him as he ascended the mountainside. His stoic face was soft, neutral, though his eyes painted a picture of wonder and awe as he looked into the sky mixing with the horizon.

At his heels his cur moved slowly, matching his pace which was typical in their lifetime bond. She was not often on her own or away from her rock unless commanded—by him or by hunger. The pair moved carefully, with calculated steps in the darkness that plagued the foliage around their feet. There was no path the way they were traveling. Feet and paws alike pushed down tall plants and weeds, giving way to a new trail, one they demolished together. The companions were all-too familiar with this territory—with climbing mountains and paving way for adventure and structure—for it had been their life for so many years. The Windtossed Foothills had been the solace the Dauntless and his brother, the Able, had found after the shades of destruction ripped apart their home, piece by piece with no retribution or redemption to be sought. The red and white female had been born into this land, had hunted in its mighty forests and explored the twists and turns of the mountain paths. The undemonstrative man had protected the borders, fought unnerved among the soldiers, had led the other soldiers, and eventually led the entirety of the population.
However, those days were no more.

They stood now, at the peak of their newly created path, as strangers. The land no longer bent in the way that was familiar to them—their minds eye painting different pictures than the layout of landscape before them. This was new, and wrong. A scowl knit across glacial features, golden eyes narrowing some. The canine looked up to her bonded, ears lowering in turn with his scowl. This was not the place of her pup-hood, nor was this the place Archibald had worked hard to protect, laying blood and sinew in its depths; it brought the weight of the world down on Loretta’s shoulders. A small whine dropped from her lips and she closed the distance between her and Archibald, leaning her head against his thick, powerful knee. Leaning down, he touched the top of her reddened head, sending a comforting wave of support towards her heart.



[Archi is standing on a peak, looking down at the Hidden Falls.]