Garwulf sighed. It had been a long time since he last stood within the great ridges of the Ironforge Mountains. A chill breeze haunted the evening, and Garwulf shivered a bit. “I wonder what he is up to…,” he muttered, trailing off.
Turning back to head down the slopes, he whistled into the crisp air, beckoning his trusty companion. With a deafening growl, and a piercing howl, Loque’nahak appeared right next to him, as if out of thin air. “’Atta boy,” Garwulf said as he patted Loque’nahak on the head, giving him a scratch behind the ears. “I miss him as well.”
The two managed to get down the rocky crags with relative ease, using knowledge passed on to them in the past on how to watch for loose rocks, and find the hidden trails that one would normally not be able to see. The path before them led east, toward the great city in the mountain. Garwulf hopped on his mount, and strode at a blistering pace, navigating the winding trail that led to the city’s main gates. Passing the guards, giving them a slight nod, he continued on toward the center near The Great Forge, where the Gryphon Master stood, ever ready to provide transportation for those in need.
