Larksong Grotto defuse your private bomb

@Citali I'm cool with a group thread, if you are! c:

How Týrr had managed to find Larksong Grotto was in all honesty beyond the Amazon Rekkr. He had heard of it in passing, though none of the wolves whom carried it's name upon their lips seemed to have ever been to it. They had heard about it just as he had: through word of mouth, which had begged the question of it's existence to Týrr. Yet, despite his skepticism he couldn't help but think that it was a very real place within the Teekon Wilds, as real as Frostfire Ridge was. After all, he hardly saw the point in making up a myth of a territory. He had never been a big believer in myths. He enjoyed them, of course, but as bed time stories for children, so the idea of someone making up a territory was nothing less than ludicrous to him. So he searched for it. It was true that he could have been doing some more productive, like hunting for the Ridge's caches, or looking for potential recruits. Either would have been measurably more productive than searching for an enigmatic territory, but he had chosen, in the end, to do neither. 

It had been raining the entire trip, the rich chocolate brown fur of his coat damp and curling against his nape where it lay slightly thicker. Crystalline blue eyes squinted against the droplets of water upon his lashes, blinking them away as he reached the descent. It was steep, and studiously he assessed the danger that the rocks would present on a dry day let alone a day where they would be slippery with precipitation. Yet, he did not fear the treacherous terrain, nor the drop to the forest he could see below, a stretch of green against the earthen stone. He had climbed and descended rocky crags before, mountains even. He was not yet sure how his body knew how to shift and move, to navigate the paths naturally but it was not something that he readily questioned.

Týrr's progress was slow, utilizing caution as he braved the climb down. When his front paws finally reached the soft earth made pliable by the rainfall he moved once more at a natural pace for him, no longer concerned with his safety. At least, where it came to footing. The scent of another caught his attention, fresh as it was. It was a scent he vaguely recognized though he could not place any sort of name to it. Brazenly, the soon-to-be King followed it, eventually coming upon the youth when as he approached the water source that the gray-scale yearling seemed to be intently staring into. 

"Careful; if you stare hard enough you might fall in,” Týrr warned the boy with a soft tease to his voice, a chuckle — soft and amiable — rumbling in his chest to show that he wasn't hostile and that he meant no harm upon this neutral territory.