Sleeping Dragon we'll watch as time tumbles down

Mojave's nails clicked against the rocks as she ventured into the territory. Apprehension cloaks her to some degree, though she hadn't really been dumped off by Thuringwethil after they had interred the deer into a cache. Rather it was Mojave who had made the bold move to venture out, willing to explore on her own than try and follow at the heels of the dark-haired alpha. Heda, she found herself correcting, trying to cram that little bit of knowledge with whatever other things had been imparted to her in their travels back to the range of Sleeping Dragon.

Even with the summery heat giving way to a humid sunset, Mojave found it hard to miss the sight of a smoky white plume against the flatland. A geyser tucked away, but she didn't know that, and the curious reined her in moreso than the height of the squat mountain-housing-volcano did. Prepared to march up to that little plume, she had already started bee-lining towards it... never once stopping to consider whether or not she should.

thrice, "the earth isn't humming"