Golden Glade sky fire above, ice below the hearth

She had forgotten about the size difference between herself and Rannoch, so as she ventured through the tight passageway she didn’t think about him not being able to follow her. The only wolf she really hung out with on a regular basis was Quixote, and he wasn’t much bigger than she. Rannoch, by contrast, was a CHONKY BOI. When she turned and saw him wedged in the narrow tunnel, she giggled at him and returned, helping him get free of the rocky passage and joining him back out in the cave’s main chamber.

As they continued to explore, a thought occurred to her and she gave it voice: ”You know, lately I’ve been feeling like there’s some sort of hex on my name. Bad luck seems to follow Redhawks around like...flies cling to poop. With this whole change and us all turning over a new leaf — new beginnings and all — I’ve been thinking about taking a new name for myself. Maybe just calling myself Raven Frosthawk. Is that weird?” While changing one’s own name was a strange concept to her, she didn’t realize that her own family, the Redleaf-DiSarinnos, had done that themselves so many years ago.