Moonstone Quarry Strength of Knowledge

I'm sorry if I made it too far away with the Quarry. It was the bisecting point between the Golden Glade and the Redhawks' territory, without crossing a huge range of mountains....

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Darsal sought out a ridge of stone in the sandy Quarry. This would provide enough cover for her to rest. The sand would be comfortable enough.
The night was cool, something a tundra wolf like Darsal appreciated; her pelt had thinned for the warmer seasons, but the Wilds would never be as habitable to this wolf as her home was. Boli, a tundra far, far north of Snowforest Taiga, was where she'd been born. Her pack was a family of wolves just as tall and sturdy as Darsal. They had specialized in collaborating to take down even the mightiest elk, an animal no lone wolf could hope to hunt. Yet, they also had a stigma against communication and empathy, which was where Darsal took her reserved persona... and her passion for language.
Darsal had nearly found sleep when she heard a noise from the entrance to the Quarry. She rose, burnt-orange eyes now open. She strained her ears for any further sounds — and there was the brush of slight pawsteps on sand. Who was roaming the gorge at this time of day?
The blackened-gray wolf could only smell one stranger and thus had little worry. Darsal spoke with a strong voice, betraying no nervousness she harbored. Who's there? she asked, her voice a slight echo. Show yourself.