RisingSun

The Lands of the Rising Sun
   Dew soaked mountains, where decay and life kiss   

A cool mist swirls across the rocky landscape, dew from the clutches of night clings to the flora and fall coloured decay and earth around you; to tall unkept grass, fallen leaves and coating the frozen pebbled beneath your paws. The ground shifts under you with every step you take, making little noises as the collide with each other and slide down the incline you're facing. The rising sun paints the new day in pink, shifting to a deep blue and the remains of the night sky towards your back. 
The clouds still choke the sun in a way it doesn't hurt your eyes when you look over the ragged terrain towards it. When you approach the bench the wet air finally blows from the east, shagging your fur and irritating your ears while they whistle past. When the gust blows over you can finally focus on your surroundings. From up here the world looks miniature and surreal. 
Your heart beats loudly in your body, as if one was a pup in the grasp of a golden eagle as it was being taken from its family. 

A voice breaks the moment not much different from a rude awakening by an enthusiastic birds morning song. " 'Elcome to the  Mountain', Stranger. Watch yer step," A voice behind you chimes. "Beyon 'ere is the Territory of the Risin Sun, ya see? Respect our customs and yer 'elcome ta rest 'ere."