Moonspear Do a fake dab to smell my armpits, whiff it

The wolves of Seabolt had surely written her off by now, though Q decided to quit lollygagging and finally make the trip to report back. She would tell them about Sagtannet, of course, but more importantly, she would complete her mission and let them know what she'd discovered about the herds' movements. She let @Wintersbane know she hoped to be back within a week, maybe a little more, then grabbed Frolic to come along for the journey.

The otter assumed his customary position, curling about her neck and shoulders like a weighty scarf, and Quell grinned like an idiot as she embarked due west. She could've retraced her steps, though she didn't want to miss the chance to scope out some new scenery. Despite her passenger, she moved at a steady clip, roving through woods, across a meadow, then skirting past a lake. From there, she veered north, if only because the mountains left her no other choice.

She drew in a deep breath every few miles, anticipating the familiar and nostalgic scent of the ocean, but slowed her step when she drew in a particularly powerful lungful of eau de loups. When Q stopped beneath the shadow of the tallest peak, Frolic slithered from his perch and gamboled back in the other direction. That left the yearling standing there, alone, staring curiously at the alp as she wondered if it was bigger or smaller than Sawtooth Spire.