The Sunspire can books look sad.

Despite what Rannoch said, she did not venture from her little perch above them all in the mountains. She kept there out of spite, her eyes watching the wolves move below — so much like ants they were. She liked it up there. It was beautiful in a way that social interaction could not trump. She lingered there because she wanted, laid there when she woke because she wanted. And that was all the reason in the world she needed.

So when she saw the creature trailing up the mountainside, she felt invaded. In a way, this was hers. Sure, the others may live in the mountains, but their home of choice was a valley. She had been born in the mountains, lived on them and climbed them nearly her whole life. Her hardened pads were a sign of that. 

Graceful as a mountain cat — sometimes she wished that she had been born a solitary, powerful mountain lion instead of a social, dependent wolf — she slid from the small cave where she made her nest to a outcrop above where the girl was treading. She laid there, watching until the girl was closest to her.

She saw the young woman's shiver and smirked. You're not from here, are you?