Otter Creek And the book you write's magnificent

Gaze ever drifting from peak to peak, searching for familiarity in those hazardous heights. Were they the way to be taken home, or would challenging them result in his demise? He could not determine the answer, too many variables present; if the earth shook whilst atop those ridges, his chances for survival diminished. Yet, should it not… perhaps he may stand a chance.

But that was something not yet to be discovered, the downward trailing of his eyes revealing something—or, rather, someone.

Across the foothills he spied movement, the pallid blur eventually coming into focus and taking the shape of a wolf. Close to the mountains, close enough to be crushed by falling debris, should the earth’s rage boil over, and yet she remained. Brave or foolish, he was not sure what to call her; the last quake had been some time ago now, yet he still practised caution and was unsure what to think of those that did not. It was a curiosity, though, and her being so close left him wondering if she might be familiar with the range—and if so, perhaps she may enlighten him, guiding the way to the dancing willows. Interest piqued, he started at a steady trot in her direction, eager to see if she would flee or come to humour his troubled mind.