Sheepeater Cliff The dark of summer

Private.

Although yesterday's rains gave way to a clear and sunny day, shadows swallowed much of the flatlands at this hour, as the mountains to the northeast blocked the rising sun. Koontz roamed southeast through the flatlands, glad that the early morning shade offered a reprieve from the July heat. She ignored the soreness in her feet—the result of patrolling the plateau's borders almost constantly—and told herself she would dip them in the hotspring that evening. She wouldn't let a little inflammation prevent her from feeling out her new homeland.

With that said, she wouldn't deny herself a pit stop. Panting, Koontz paused beneath the sheer face of Sheepeater Cliff (not that she knew its name yet) and peered up at the steep crag. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw a mountain goat leaping from one bluff to another, sure-footed as anything as it navigated the sheer rock walls. The she-wolf watched until it disappeared out of sight, then turned her attention to a nearby pool of water, where she quickly slaked her thirst before resuming her jaunty rambling.