Moonstone Quarry sixth circle

It’s not just the sheer drops that keeps her wary. It’s the rough friction of limestone edges that literally keeps her on her toes. She either climbs or descends, and funny enough she feels that’s the level-headed thing to do. Staying out in the open for too long causes the hair to prickle along the length of her spine. The world had seemed too big and too dangerous to confront at the moment, the familiar valley peaks towering in the distant heavens. Finding a nice nook to wedge herself into, even if it’s a bit damp—now that sounds cozy.

Even in the shallow moonlight that filters down into the quarry, the shadows do not reveal to her a suitable crag to squeeze into. Part of exploration was disappointment, and it’s not all that foreign for her to accept defeat on that front. But she’s flexible, and once her pawpads slide down onto the surface of a damp boulder hanging at the edge of a clear pool she adjusts to survey her new surroundings. In the likeness of  bird she seems to tilt her head to and fro, as if to soak it in evenly with each eye. Her nose goes to work then, attempting to pluck out the history of the pit by scent alone.