iso retirement home

One of his kids had mentioned that a pack had taken up residence in the ragged mountains of the east, and that they seemed fond of his brand of violence. As age crept up on him, the celestial giant was beginning to wonder if he should return to pack life. As long as the pack was somewhere with nice weather (read: cold as a witch's tits and just as inviting) and didn't mind his genetic predisposition towards being a bastard. So, why not go see what was going on? He hauled himself from the familiar woods of the north and made the trek to the foothills of the mountain range that most knew as Fenrir's Maw. He remembered old tales of a wolf with a similar name in his early years, but not many of the details had stuck around this long. Either way, it felt like a good omen.

There was no way in hell he was climbing any mountains just to ask if they'd take pity on a relic like himself and offer a home in exchange for whatever amounted to wisdom that might be rattling around his thick skull. Instead, the brightly hued goliath tipped back his head and loosed a booming howl that would echo for miles, drawing attention from all sorts and prompting only a few brave souls to investigate. The crow that continued to follow him at every turn alit upon the snow beside him, hopping up to his flank and tugging at the thick fur of his belly with a painfully sharp beak. He swatted at it absently with one oversized paw, prompting it to flap-hop-skitter a few feet away with a squawk of protest.

With a long suffering sigh, he dropped onto his haunches to wait for someone to come and investigate the stranger at the borders. He assumed it would be soon, marauders weren't exactly the type to entertain potential infiltration.