Though these lands were far from a forest, there was snow, and lots of it. Such conditions are where the one known as Fangir once thrived in times now forgotten. He hadn't come to these lands but a couple of weeks ago, and he was still trying to familiarize himself with the lands. Though once he had come here to the mountains where cold prevailed over the heat, he found it hard to leave due to a feeling of familiarity that he had not felt in some time.
He had another reason for being here at the mountains where little could survive. He was hungry and had to find something to eat. True he could go for days without eating, sometimes having done just that in the past when he had his eye on a particularly fat deer or something equivalent. The reason it had taken him so long was due to how many others were around that particular morsel. He had been able to wait patiently for the others to leave before making his move and eventually getting what he wanted. So why come to this place in search of food? There was a question easily answered for Fangir. It was as simple as a desire to keep his skills in tracking and stalking his prey sharp as well as to push his body to their physical limits in the harsh conditions this area had to offer.
There was little hope of finding deer or anything of the sort that would be found in a wooded area. Though he was almost certain that mountain goat would be something not impossible to find. Fangir stalks along a narrow foot path only wide enough to fit a single human foot at a time, and though he was a wolf there was still very little room for him only because of size. He makes his way carefully along the ledge, his head held low as he sniffed along the stone beneath for some sign that he wasn't only chasing shadows and ultimately finding nothing. The ledge came to an end, following the rock wall of the peak he was skirting and leveling out to a round plateau where a company of hunters would be able to make camp. That is, if they could make it this far up.