The goat queen had become accustom to spending the days in the jagged hills on the eastern border; returning to walk the pine forests only at night.  Late spring had chased most, if not all, the snow from the rocky cliffs.  Even the highest elevations began to warm, causing my thick coat to lighten.  Patches of coarse hair dotted my carcass in an unsightly manner.

Sickly almost.

I descend for my nightly rounds, weaving through the salute pines.  Every few paces I'd brush along their shaggy bark, leaving chunks of muddy brown hair to mark my path.  The sensation was quite pleasant, relieving slightly the itch of my skin.  Other than satisfaction, there was no other purpose to doing this.  Though one may assume it to be a scent trail.

The forest is cloaked in a thick blanket of darkness as I move casually through the understory.  Not much grew down here but some briar patches of twisted vines, so navigating steps wasn't too hard even in the pitch black of night.  An occasional crunch of dry needle and pinecone is all that signaled my presence audibly.

Every so often when I ran my body along the tree bark, I would pause to bend my head, jabbing my spiraled horns into the meat of the tree and scrapping away a marking.  A warning.  My own personal calling card.

Beware, all who enter here.

Kreed