Wooden Giants

Omen the raven was having much more fun with the wolf than Rannoch might have. The Irish Elk was careful even if he may have been the superior in strength. Any kind of injury could be a death sentence to a cervine such as himself. Still, his antlers weren’t so large that he couldn’t leap over the wolf and flee for his life. Still, the tension in his neck and shoulders did not dissipate.

Beneath the massive trees the wolf spoke up, eager to discount himself as an enemy unless Rannoch bid him. Nature had assigned them roles, predator and prey, but it seemed as if this lone wolf did not feel that strong of a pull. "You aren’t wrong, young one.” He returned in a deep voice, noting the wolf was likely not even in full adulthood yet. "But if you mean no harm, I would not count you among my enemies.” He had befriended Taiga the giant cave lion after all.

Their attention both would return to the scenery around them and the huge trees whose canopy could hardly even be seen here at the ground. Rannoch’s deep green eyes lifted from the yearling wolf to the sky, comprehending the towering monsters. These trees reminded him of home and a time before he lived in Boreas. "Redwoods, they call them. They have been around for longer than many mountain ranges, or so I have been told.” Despite his age, Rannoch was only a baby compared to the old masters around them. "They bear cones like many other confers, sometimes it’s hard to believe that such a giant can come from such a tiny seed.” He returned his gaze to the wolf before him, not certain he divulged the secrets he was looking for.

"Rannoch"