Sawtooth Spire A Little Push

Dripping dry, he pressed forward. Nose to the ground, he noted its temperature. The stones were warm to the touch. To his paws. To his nose. The heat wasn't unbearable, but it was noticeable. Comfortable. As if the sun had warmed the stone, but something told him that was not the case. There was a hint of moisture to the air that spoke of something else. He had his thoughts, but he'd not speak of them until his suspicions were confirmed.

She called to him this time. It seemed as though they were to play hopscotch in this discovery. He'd find something. She'd build on whatever he originally found. He'd find something more after that. The trading off made for an equal discovery. Eager he traveled a few paces ahead of here. Here the rocks dropped into a crevice with a trail large enough for a wolf of their size. He called out to her before he tucked himself within it and followed as the path wove downwards between the shadows of the stones.

Eventually the rocks piled atop one another to lure him into a cave of sorts. This hollow soon met his ears with a sound that was familiar. Water. And steam. It appeared the stones from above were warmed by this underground river. To drink of it, would not be so much of a refreshing thing, but it would make for a pleasant place to lounge in the winter. He glanced to his mate, curious of her thoughts.