Dragoncrest Cliffs Cut me loose

He heard his name on the wind, salt and cloud beckoning him towards the coast.

Warbone didn't like staying within Sleeping Dragon for too long. He slept down in the Hollows, and often kept to the borders. In truth, he wasn't fond of the heat that came from an underground sun (as he had been told The Core was, thus the activities of volcanoes) and the occasional plume of smoke that The Dragon emitted were obvious warnings to its worry-less inhabitants. But no one saw them as bad omens. They merely followed Heda and her god-like influence.

But Warbone was a skeptical beast at heart, and he would follow his own instinct long before the opinionated barks of another.

So he made for the cliffs; a place he had passed, but not visited. It still wasn't warm enough to warrant a visit to the beach, but overlooking the water would be a welcome reprieve from the desire to constantly challenge those around him to establish his superiority among the wolves of his home of two names. His journey was slow, and took the better part of three days (he would return at a faster pace) but when he did arrive on that very gray, heavy midday, he was surprised to find a familiar red body on the ledges.

He came to stand at the edge too, several yards to her left, and then he turned his head towards her, angling it curiously.