Horizon Ridge i: the other half.

The sussuration of the rain has seemingly doused the life from the forest; it is the only sound for miles. There is a gray light overhead cast by the stars, shared by the sliver of moon when the sky clears long enough to witness it, and the world briefly transitions from the darkness to light—a lively silver. Each stone contoured, each depression of the earth filled to the brim. 
Among them, a shape that is wider than a wolf's broad tread. It leads east along the ridge. To a discerning eye—even in the dark while the rain sluices through the canopy—the trail is well marked.

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Caution: Whump prompt.