Larksong Grotto Burning everything I know
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She found it eventually.

Ceres had spent more than a few days and nights hunting for the eastern pack Thuringwethil had spoken of. At first, she passed it by. The territory didn't smell of wolves, nor did any territory in the immediate area. She'd gone all the way to where the river split from the glacier and headed south, where there were no more mountains, before she doubled back. By then, the old Arctic she-wolf was feeling haggard and travel-weary. Her finding the abandoned wolf den in the grotto on the way back was a stroke of luck.

She spent a little time sniffing around the abandoned territory before deciding to return to the seaside cliffs with news. She was determined to prove herself a useful asset in exchange for living life the way the dragon cliff wolves did, to understand their coalition. Even if they had been less than kind to her on their borders with the exception of the girl with the chocolate fur, Ceres was determined. She wanted very much to understand them, and if nothing else, she could befrie—

The starved puma came out of nowhere. The Arctic wolf had no warning. She hadn't seen it up in the boughs of the tree, and her hearing and sense of smell were muted by age. It descended, landing on silent paws, and was on her in half a second. The wolf didn't stand a chance. She snapped at it and struggled, tasted its blood on her tongue, but in the end, the cat's razor-sharp claws disemboweled her, and it left her bloody corpse in the grotto after gorging on her innards.