Blackbeak Bluff if it's a big enough stone, you can kill way more than two birds

Sirio spends the rest of the evening nursing his wounds. The physical ones are easily superficial. A few cups and craps from teeth and a nick across his muzzle. The most noticeable is the limp he suffers when he favors his back right leg and the excessively bruised ego he carries around. He hides away in the tangle for most of the night, waiting until a chance to move further south and figure out where to go from here. He’d been warned by the wolf killer not to return and his plans for finding his mother are temporarily put on hold but they are far from over.

The next morning he is not nearly as sore but his wounds have begun to scab except for the bigger one that still oozes beneath his shoulder. He isn’t sure who or what gave it to him during the scuffle but it isn’t life threatening and he does little care for them other than keeping them clean. As the boy approaches the cliffs where the snow drops off, a heavy fog lures below, hiding the roaring sea crashing against the tall cliffs.