Emberflame Ridge we'll not go home again

@Tree

Scorched trees were certainly not new to Maya. There'd been plenty of that back in her old homeland -- she remembered the scorched forests her old pack had laid claim to, sprouting green with new leaves but still blackened with fire; this place, it seemed, held something of the same. All thick yellowish grass damp with melted snow -- where it wasn't buried, anyways -- that bent rather than crunched under her paws when she stepped forward; above them, stands of trees dark with burn marks and the fresh smell of smoke. With her ears pricked in curiosity she bounded forward, enjoying the way the grass swished when she sped through it.

She was, in fact, so busy doing ridiculous bounds through the snow like a fox hunting prey that it was only the sudden gap in the thick, leafless forest that kept her from tumbling right over the ridge. Instead she drew herself to an abrupt, startled halt when she saw the edge of the ridge loom ahead of her, the drop into empty, open space. Her jaws parted, tongue lolling from between two neat rows of white teeth as she blinked out at lakes and mountains, white ground and the distant grey specks of trees almost obscured by falling snow.

This was familiar too.

Tail wagging cheerfully, she pounded her paws against the snow. Thick chunks of ice dislodged themselves from the clifftop and rolled down into space, clattering against the exposed stone in rather spectacular explosions, sending shards raining into the valley. Too wide and deep to echo, but satisfying nonetheless.