Ankyra Sound all of them end in the same place — upon the killing ground

Mwe spent much of his time combing the beach and grotto, not quite trusting his footing on the cliff sides that seemed to be so familiar to his packmates — and staring in wonder at the ocean before him. Even in the chill of winter, the ocean was alive and lapping at the shore, ebbing and flowing with a sound like the earth's very own breath. He did not think he would ever get used to this place. It would always feel foreign, and he an outsider to its secrets.

But today, he turned away from the sea and began his cautious ascent to the sequoias. These belonged to Rusalka, too, and he would be remiss in his duties if he did not also patrol there. And, if he were honest, the game there was more familiar and easier caught. He was unused to the tough, shelled creatures of the shore and how frustrating they could be to consume. Jaws easily crushed the exoskeletons, but they were splintery and painful, unlike the marrow bones of land creatures.

Mwe was not a violent creature, but he thought he might kill for some squirrel. 

He crested the cliff and wove through the sequoias, halting as he entered a swath of unexpected pine. Mwe inhaled, his eyes closing in a private rapture as the scent flooded him with a comforting nostalgia and familiarity.