Stone Circle a miracle mile, where does it lead to?

It wasn't as if she had been lost in unfamiliar territory before. Sheltered her entire life by paranoid and over-protective parents fearing a gruesome fate for their last living child, Wind had known nothing but the painfully small clearing that spread out a short distance beyond her parents' den in the side of a cliff, a wall of scraggly firs being the boundary she was forbidden to cross. Of course, the imagery of the sharp mountain peaks of the Lamar Valley that lay in the gaps of that screen of needles was enough to persuade a young and curious wolf like herself to abandon her parents' lessons, waiting until the moon was high to wander out into the meadows beyond the safety and security of the territory to explore, scout, and memorize the vast terrain she had been barred from. She had been flawless in her escapes, careful to return back to the den before dawn and leaving her parents suspecting nothing. The yearling figured she could pull this off for another year until she was finally of age to leave her birth pack behind. 

But, against her expectations, Wind had ran into trouble a day or two prior -- she was exactly sure on how long ago it had been, seeing how she had been completely incoherent up until a few hours ago. All she remembered was the sharp pang of the dart in her haunch before darkness had washed over her like cold water, and then she had awoken here. A vast meadow, much like her old territory, only the foreign scents and unfamilar flora were what told her she was far from the Lamar Valley. And now, for the very first time in her short life, Wind wished that she had listened to her parents.

Once the numb feeling in her legs had dispersed, Wind had begun her trek. She had followed nothing but her gut instinct, hoping that her paws would take her home -- or, at the very least, somewhere safe to rest until she could gather her wits. Along the way, the dark-furred yearling had become faintly aware of a clunky human contraption around her neck, possessing a small point of light that blinked red on the edge of her peripheral every few minutes. Besides frightening her, the repetitive nature of the collar had quickly begun to irritate her. However, being the least of her worries, Wind told herself she would find a way to remove it later -- she had been more focused on seeking out any sort of clue as to where she was, for any small landmark or faint whiff of a scent that seemed even the slightest bit familiar to her. She never found one.

It was hours since Wind had woken up. Currently, as the red sun dipped nearer toward the horizon, the young female's legs finally began to ache with fatigue. Her panic and terror had faded to a dull ache in the back of her mind as exhaustion began to crawl over her, and it was with a groan of defeat that the young wolf would plunk down in the grass, unable to go any further. Pale amber eyes were locked on the grass beneath her paws as her mind failed to produce any coherent thought. She was lost, both mentally and literally. A lump began to form in the young wolf's throat as she struggled to hold back her tears, and she instead raised her head to more closely observe her surroundings. An unusual ring of formidable jagged stones jutting from the earth in the distance managed to grab her attention, long black shadows stretching across the grass from where they stood. If it had been literally any other situation, Wind would have felt compelled to go and explore the interesting arrangement. However, that signature spark of youthful curiosity was nothing but a wisp of smoke in her mind, and if anything, the sight of the rocks made her feel even more afraid.

It was at that moment that a faint breeze brushed against Wind's dark pelt, blasting directly into her already aching eyes and leaving her grimacing -- but for only a moment. With the gust came something that she had not expected: the all-too familiar scent of fellow wolves. Stranger wolves, sure, but wolves nonetheless. Perhaps if she had been a tad less delirious from the effects of sheer fatigue, Wind would have been more cautious with any further approaches into this apparently claimed territory. However, it was pure, impulsive desperation that fueled her next actions, as the young wolf threw her head back and released a wailing, croaking howl from her dry and aching throat, hoping that someone would hear her cry. If it brought trouble, she would probably be able to outrun them. Probably. At this point, she wasn't really concerned about what curveballs fate would throw her.