Ocean's Breath Plateau her voice makes the earth gape, it lures the spirits from the tombs

The mountain is fair and Phocion and Cortland's company good, but Poet tries to carve space for herself in a way she is not used to. Belonging is easy to find, routines quick to establish. Perhaps what she's been lacking is unpredictability. An unwillingness to look outside what she finds most comforting. 

So she winds herself along the shore, tasting the salt as idle memories wash over her. She is alone until she is no longer, drawn toward a raised plateau off the coast. Interweaving maps of scents, wolves long since gone, their meandering paths crisscrossed and untraceable: and a fresh scent. A stranger nearby. She follows the trail curiously to the sight of the woman, who even in the thick blanket of night descending upon them is a fetching dab of orange. For a moment she hesitates, but she's close enough to be noticed now, anyway, and so chuffs softly into the still-young night to announce her presence.