They approached the Glen that was faintly familiar to the Fearghal far sooner than she had expected. She glanced around, sniffed the air, but Raven was not here. Chusi would've liked chatting a bit with her, but she'd just have to come back later. Surely the Caldera was still around, it had smelled strongly of wolves and bigger packs were harder to conquer. Still, the flatlands seemed rather dangerous. Since the Blackfeather wolves did not come from the mountains, the hinterlands nor the coast, there was a big chance those dark souls had nestled right into the flatlands. Or perhaps in the region behind the mountains. The lands she was born in, though a bit more near the coast.

She carried on, the mountains growing closer as the sun lowered, coloring the Teekon a blazing orange. Chusi blinked, leading them around the Gorge to not risk anyone slipping and falling to their doom, and sighed. It was time to rest, her paws told her. They would conquer the mountain tomorrow. We should rest. She told, looking to the companions that had stuck with her.