Wheeling Gull Isle the protectorate of seelholm

Oh. They were going in there. "Um?" Moorhen warned as the Shadow began to ascend the face of the weeping rocks, paws nimble but moving entirely too quick. The dark girl hastened after her elder, putting her paws exactly where the Shadow's had been. Still, she found herself scrabbling slightly for purchase, not quite as graceful as her counterpart.

They soon found themselves behind the water. The world grew oddly muffled, then, with even the water seeming more quiet than it had before. Gladly, she accepted her caretaker's affection, saoking up the comfort like a sad, shrunken sponge. She'd not spent much time in caves before, and the quiet seclusion was unnerving to the younger wolf. Moorhen had the sudden feeling that the world had ceased to exist beyond the waterfall, and that she and the Shadow were the only living creatures left.

Somehow, it was not a comforting thought.

"Dark," she said uncertainly, peering out through the water. It was all blackness and movement. "Inside?" she suggested. The moon was in there. Perhaps it would be better.