Razorback Ridge the song of our lives

Many times now she had gazed upon the lake in daylight, yet never before had Wildfire seen its glassy black surface beneath the light of the moon. It was a restful sort of view, especially after another long and busy day of traveling. The young she-wolf reposed beside the water, licking absently at her aching paws. She then slumped to the ground with a sigh, deciding she might spend the night here. She was just getting comfortable when the howl rose into the air. Her ears pricked. She recognized that voice.

Wildfire jumped to her feet, then began trotting around the lake, toward its northernmost corner. From there, she began to gallop toward the mountains. She paused in Panther Park, her red fur prickling, then hastened toward the nearby foothills. Without stopping or even slowing, she raised her smudged muzzle into the air to call, Charon? No sooner had she issued the call than she caught his scent and began to trace it toward the natural rock gateway just ahead.