Redhawk Caldera Shaken, not stirred

As Wildfire swept the earth with her nose, she wondered how the seashore might differ from here. What sorts of objects would litter a beach versus a landlocked place like the caldera? She almost asked, yet she struck the same scent trail as Pan. Walking a few yards behind him, the puppy didn't miss an inch of ground; she covered it all with her nose, her whiskers exploring the differences in texture and grade as she went along.

All of a sudden, her smudged muzzle bumped against something. She took it for a rock at first, but it smelled like spoiled meat. Crinkling her nose at the rancid odor, Wildfire reached out a paw to turn over the rock. It turned out to be a dead turtle, half-ripe from lying in the sun. Its head and limbs sprawled on the dirt as she righted the carcass.

"Look what I found," Wildfire said, lifting her head to locate Pan. "What is it? It's stuck inside a rock!" the puppy questioned wonderingly. "Is that why it died?"