Ravenshook Cliffs every bit deserving

@Pagan or @Velvet or @Finch!

The cliffs rose along the seaside like a set of crowded teeth. The stone appeared to be ready to fall in to the ocean at the first jolt of the tide, but somehow it didn't. He crept along one ridge or another until he stood upon a jutting bit of worn slate. Here he was, silhouetted by a moody sky. A red smudge of blood caught between those stone teeth. The brine scent had fallen away within the hour of his arrival to the world's end, and now the wolf was aware of the scent of petrichor. There was rain in the forecast, he thought. Rain or snow, or a mix, was on the way. He would need to find shelter soon.

From his particular ledge he could see quite a ways. There was the sea, undulating and frothing to the beat of the wind, while the haradrim perched above. If he was not careful, he could fall and be no more. It was a thrilling concept - it kept him rooted for a few more minutes - and then a strong gust thrummed between the stones. It pulsed across him and he pressed himself low to the stone, creeping back a few paces for safety. The sea was a mighty thing but the wolf would not fall prey to it today.