ardens gardens

The Irish Elk had stomped his cloven hoof upon the ice laden rock. The season was changing, but there was still a strong grip of ice and snow over the landscape. However hard spring was doing its best to fight against old man winter. The deer was made for this kind of weather and terrain, his cloven hooves very much like a caribou’s dexterous digits. He easily scaled and traversed the ice and rock that made up the shores.

Rannoch’s warning was received well by the pup, his eyes went wide and his nervousness became more visible as his answer was given tentatively. The wind blew over them both, bringing with it the promise of spring. The ocean’s waves were more powerful now as the waters began to thaw out.

The boy assured him that he was indeed a pup of this pack, questioning Rannoch’s question. "I was just wondering if you were perhaps the wolf to come to for a tour around the borders.” He went on, a tilt of his head and playful wiggle of his large ears.

"Speech"