Moonspear the cold and the bare grasped

The tremors continued day after day, even after they had shorn off half the cliffside above Silverlight and exploded some other mountain to the east. The world felt like it was falling into chaos, though it seemed their mountain was, for the most part, immune to the quakes. Lyra still saw shifted trees and rocks and rubble strewn about the place, however; she was mindful to watch her step as she loped along the trails.

There was also still the issue of the herds leaving the Wilds, no doubt spooked by the shuddering earth. It was for this reason the Ostrega doggedly made her way up the mountainside towards the higher peaks, in hopes of getting a clearer view of the lands below. She was no tracker, but perhaps she could spot the stragglers of the herds and keep tabs on them before all of the prey left the valley entirely.

Her focus was broken, however, when a sudden friendly chuff caught her attention. Halting and turning to see her sister's mate, Lyra offered a smirk and flick of her tail to his quip. "Who did they inherit those teeth from?"