Ghost Lion Crag don't worry about him, he's getting fired in the morning.

she thinks she's crossed the invisible boundry that seperates the Teekon from the rest of the Wilds, but the girl is not entirely sure. the mountains she seems to be passing now don't seem to quite match the description of the Sunspire that her father gave, and she hasn't yet seen the dark woods he'd warned her off with an odd glint in his eye. still, she's going in the right direction, and Vuk thinks surely the next wolf she'll see will be able to tell her for certain. 

the stone is sharp and cold against her paws, yet the sun beats down heavy and warmth crawls through her pelt. it's the scent of old kill that pulls her from her initial path through the craigs, and though she's a proficient hunter she wouldn't dare pass up the chance of free food. she finds it soon enough; or rather, whatever is left of it. she noses at a ribcage and tugs halfheartedly at tough sinew. she isn't hungry enough or desperate enough to make a meal of the marrow, and instead focuses on the scent heavily intwined with the cats. it seems easy enough to track, and after a moment of deliberation, she sets on doing just that. 

he lays by a stream, lifeless as any one of the rocks that litter the bank and with misery practically radiating off him. she thinks of simply leaving him there, for he doesn't seem particulary inclined to answer her questions. still, she's tracked him all the way here, and the cat was disappointment enough. forging ahead, she sits her heavy frame down a few meters from him,  calling out. "you okay?" a forepaw hovers a few centimeters above the ground, indicator of her concern despite the bluntness of her words.