From one mountain to the next, they were all starting to look the same. Still, Björn⁢ more than understands the concept of a good vantage point. Climbing up Waterfall Peak is no small task, but he takes it slow. Takes it steady. Placing one foot in front of the other, and making sure to mind just how slick the rocks could get. Though he's far enough from the water feature to not feel its spray on his coat, the humidity is still particularly intense up here. Mind the gaps, mind the slick spots. Mind the mosses beneath his feet, because there's no telling just how firmly they've taken hold of the rocks.

Tired by the time he reaches the top, Björn⁢ turns to take in the scenery. Pretty. Serene. It's quiet, aside from the distant song of birds and the rustling of small prey in the undergrowth. The boy rests heavily against a tree for a long moment, resting after his climb to the top. For as much as he'd been born to the mountains, this was steeper than he's accustomed to. Around him, the sunlight starting to fade around the edges. Slipping away, it would be evening soon.

"Björn"

His displeasure with life had grown to a subtle feeling. The emotion lingering just beneath the surface. Cradled in the back of his mind like a distant memory. It was time to get back to work. To return to his rightful place beneath his brother; yet, also beside him in some sort of way. Toes spread wide to provide him better steadiness. Each step placed onto protruding rocks. Nails gripping onto patches of moss. Muscles tightening beneath the heaviness of his coat as he climbed the stone walls. Sprays of water from the neighboring waterfall created slippery surfaces on most of the platforms. Yet, it did not stop him from continuing his journey. One that did not last as long as it should. He was short of breath, but only momentarily. The second paws met solid ground did he inhale sharply. Nostrils flaring against the assault. Capturing more than just the scent of fresher air from the high peaks themselves. This one held some kind of familiarity to it. He couldn't quite place it. As much as he racked his brain to do so. Cifarelli chose to investigate. Nose to the earth with small, yet sharp takes of breath that led him to the body of a horned wolf. Who seemed to be resting. Had they also climbed the cliffs? "Speaks"

Björn's gaze is steady and unflinching. He's simply an observer here, getting a better lay of the land. Good vantage points? They're the key to his puzzle. Bred, born, and raised to the mountains, this is no unusual task for him. There's comfort in this, the watching. If he watches, if he knows, then there's nothing that can sneak up on him. Nothing that will take him by surprise, and nothing that will prevent him from the task at hand.

At least it's a relatively relaxed task. Listening to the roar of the waterfall hitting the pool at the bottom, taking in the bird song, trying to sort out exactly what lived at this elevation. Fresh air in his lungs did the boy good. Everything smells like the coniferous trees, the water, the summer sun.

Björn wouldn't be alone for long, though. Another man scrambled up the cliff, carefully enough to not wreck his own shit. Not entirely a stranger, though he hadn't caught the man's name the last time they'd met. The rot prince had been younger then, hell... he'd had a future then. Now? At least it's the same, steady grey gaze, settling on the man. "Mind the moss, it's slick." A warning given with the same casual tone he's taken to keeping, at least when he's not preaching.

"Björn"