Drag Me To The Top [Crafting?]

Although winter weather raged in spring, Aurielle labored up the hillock’s side, almost staggering under the weight of the stones in her pack saddles. Taliesyn had been of the utmost help over the past few days, and his hooves had worked a solid path in the ground that was much easier for laden wolves to scale. It was a little more winding than the path she’d taken Coran and her other children up many times to work their muscles and coordination, but she cherished the work.

The stallion was on patrol for now, but all the stones he’d carried and dragged up the hill with his powerful frame and legs were at the top, and she’d be occupied for a good several hours marking out the foundation of the structure she was planning.

As she reached the top, the Spirit staggered with wobbly legs to the pile of stones and let her haunches drop, slipping from the pack bags and flopping to wheeze for air. She was fit, yes, but it was a steep climb and a lot of rocks.

Once she gained her wind back, she sat and stared out over the plains. It was clear today, but still bitingly cold and un-springly. She couldn’t help but wonder how much impact this might have on the prey animals. Not just those that resided on Valhallan lands but all those that other packs relied on. Cairo had said it seemed just as odd in the south as it was here in the west. She blew out a long breath, brows puckering softly.

Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Labhair an Sean-Teanga." ---- "Hear" ---- Think