Sheepeater Cliff Bighorn Country

Bazi had yet to receive an official mission from Fox, but all and any voluntary scouting increased her usefulness to the pack - being able to relay news of the recent landslide at Horizon Ridge had filled her with a great sense of achievement, despite the nature of the information. The desire to feel that again drove her away from the Creek in the early hours, leaving Ferdie to snooze and wonder what flight of fancy had pulled her away this time. The mountains called, she would tell him, and I had to answer.

Wary of crossing paths with a Vale wolf, she chose to circumvent Sunspire Mountain to the south and drop into the flatlands. It was a straight run from there, and Bazi took full advantage; the witch-doctor's salt baths and a few healthy meals had already restored her health, and with it came the boundless energy that was standard issue among yearlings. It fuelled her sprint along the western border of the range and subsequent conquering of bountiful cliff's southern tail. By the time she reached Sheepeater Cliff proper, Bazi was tired - content to sniff around in the dampness for traces of the local populace, and not so stupid that the relationship between wet weather and steep cliffs was lost on her.

It wasn't long before her assessment of rock and round pellets of poop was interrupted by the smell of wolf. She recognized it from the Creek, and that calmed her fluttering heart somewhat - they were very close to the Vale now, and chances of running into one of their disgruntled neighbours were high. The little white Mu lowered her head and made a low, questioning noise, scanning the crags for any sign of life. Wherever this wolf was, he was well camouflaged.