Flit had lingered in the caves for a few days, hidden in a deep recess while the rest of the wolves ventured down into the valley. The danger was gone, and the packs were reforming. The aging grey wolf took the time to be alone until an unknown prompt got him to his feet and sent him trotting briskly out of the caves. The day greeted him with a crisp buffet of wind and the shriek of a bald eagle soaring overhead.

Looking up at the mountain, Flit decided it was a good day to adventure up there. He had travelled to the summit once before when his legs were full of the boundless energy of use. Now age was beginning to tighten them, and this might be his last chance to see the epic panoramic view from the top of the Mystic Mountain.

So following a narrow path, improvising in places, the wolf spent the better part of the day clambering up the rock. At times he thought he caught another scent taking a similar trail, but it was hard to tell when the wind snatched it away.

The top of the peak was in sight now, but a dark silhouette made him hesitate. It appeared as if there had been another wolf up head, and there he was sat looking over the valley. Flit tilted his head to the side, debating whether to disappear and head back down. The black wolf didn't seem to be threatening; if anything he didn't appear to be too happy in general. Against his better judgement, Flit stepped over the snow-tipped cap toward the younger wolf. "Hello? Are you alright there?" He asked, his soft voice almost carried away by the wind whipping around the precipice of rock.

Flit chuffed, shaking out his coat. "Uh-huh?" He replied, unconvinced. He padded closer, taking the other wolf's return to gazing out at the landscape below as an invitation to approach. The grey wolf stood nearby, he too looked out over the valley, admiring it through the haze of cloud. "It is a magnificent sight, is it not?" He asked absently, sitting back on his haunches and enjoying the feel of the wind in his fur.

He didn't know if he could really talk to this wolf, but it was worth the effort to try. How often did one come across another wolf on the mountain's peak? Flit wasn't a firm believer in fate, but it there ever was an act of it, this was a firm example.

At the single word reply, Flit smiled to himself and resumed his survey. The sight below was enough to inspire anyone, though apparently not this wolf. "What are you looking for?" He asked after a minute's silence. Flit was beginning to get the impression that the conversation was going to be one-sided. But he was determined to at least try and engage the wolf.

The fact that the journey up here had left him to tired to start to attempt the route back down did come into him taking on his ambitious new task of getting this wolf to talk, but the exercise would be good for both of them. He needed the practice, and this wolf looked like he needed to talk.

Flit shuffled in the snow, settling his weight on one side of his haunches and letting his hind legs rest to the side. "So if you're not looking for something, what are you doing up here?" He asked with a sideways smile. The poor wolf seemed confused. perhaps the thinness of the air up here was getting to him.

Evaluating the pros and cons of laying down, Flit decided taking the weight off his forepaws outweighed a wet stomach so he lowered his torso to the ground and began to groom his paws. His tongue and eyes were about the only thing on his that weren't grey. Even his nails were a steel grey like his coat rather than the normal black.

The poor wolf didn't seem to really know what had drawn him up here; Flit wasn't even sure himself why he had made the journey, it couldn't be that he wanted to simply see the view one last time. It was clear he wasn't going to get much out of the wolf this way, so he changed tactics.

"It is, I've been here once before many years ago. My name is Flit. What's yours?" The question came easily, though the fact that he was talking to a stranger did odd things to his stomach. He was generally a nervous wolf, so it wasn't surprising that he was anxious.

"Chevax, then. Would you do me a favour and escort me back down? My legs aren't what they used to be." He added with a wry smile. If they stayed any longer up here, it might be too dark to find their way down, and he wasn't keen on spending a frozen night up on the highest peak in the range.

This Chevax was blatantly distracted by something, perhaps Flit could convince him to spend some time with Sariel's pack, the socialisation would probably do him some good.