Ragnar the Red (Because I Can't Help Myself)

He had been so close to falling. It was so well hidden, it was a miracle Ragnar hadn't fallen to his death by slamming his head on a rock at the bottom with gravity's momentum or something. Thankfully, he watched were he was going. Standing with his paws firmly planted into the ground, he stood at the very edge of evenly leveled land that extended barely another inch further before sloping down to form the ravine. His ears were perked and his good eye took the land formation in. He had never seen such a thing. The closest thing that this reminded him of was a Fjord, but still, those were much differently formed than this. The best part about traveling and exploring, was highlighted in a new sight such as this. Getting to see new lands and experience all different kinds of wolves, all with different cultures and backgrounds.

Quickly, his eye landed down below to see a wolf. His ears perked forward, his serious expression held intrigue. This wolf had a silvery white colored fur, and very long strands of fur atop their scruff. A mane, of sorts. Intriguing.. he had never seen such a thing before. His first thought was how it could be a big disadvantage in a fight. They could be dragged around by that long mane, it could be yanked on to cause pain. His next thought was how they weren't exactly walking in the best path.

"Good evening," he called down to the wolf. He stayed where he was, for the moment.