Sawtooth Spire i'm heading straight for the castle

Sorry I didn't see the note to skip Wintersbane!

Greyson was sharp—for the first time that she could remember, another living, breathing wolf seemed to agree with her that Sawtooth's slopes were atrociously dangerous. At least, that's how she chose to take his remark. It was quite a large stretch to come to that conclusion, but Wylla was too busy being pleased that someone else thought the terrain was treacherous to be rational or logical about it.
C'mon, there's flat ground further up the mountain, she said, gesturing with a flick of her muzzle as she turned uphill. Rain sluiced into her eyes and she blinked it away with a grimace. From here, the peak was completely obscured by the downpour. In these conditions they'd be lucky to find the hares at all, but that was sort of the point. It wasn't important that Greyson actually catch a hare. It was only important that he demonstrate his capability to do so if the weather wasn't so horrible.
Wintersbane might balk at the idea of Wylla leading Greyson straight into their valley claim, but she saw only two sides to that coin: either he passed this trial, became one of them, and would be welcomed there anyway, or he failed and they outnumbered him and chased him from their territory. She saw no harm in leading him there for this trial—they were too far from the whelping dens for him to present any real threat to their most vulnerable. When they reached the high lip of mountain, with the valley basin and its rivers and forests sprawling out beneath them, Wylla turned to face Greyson and said, lead on. Time to find a hard.