navigating the fog

Since officially being deemed a yearling and thus allowed to wander outside Lirim's walls without an escort, the young Aryn had spent much of her time on the lookout for the next territory to explore and the next wonder to see. Her travels were contained to the west for the time being. Although she had permission to wander further it was hard to bring herself to go so far from home, and she didn't want to risk worrying her father over her absence.

The west was for the most part sandy, dry and barren. There were a few lush green territories Aryn had stumbled over, some majestic waterfalls and some odd shaped formations. Each had it's own beauty to it, and the little navigator was entranced. As she followed the sand river further south, a thick and mysterious fog began to lap at her paws. The heavy scent of pack lingered in the moist air, and Aryn assumed this must be the territory of Valhalla that she'd heard so much about.

She craned her head in further, careful not to step over the border. In the distance through the mist she could see formations in the rock, and her tail wagged slowly as she investigated from afar. Never in her life would she dare to intrude on another pack's land, though there was no harm she could see in simply looking.