Sawtooth Spire and her heart within her remained bound

praimfaya hunts for a suitable den to shelter in. though she isn't all too keen on staying underground for any prolonged amount of time for she knows the earth can suffocate and crush the life out of you just as quick as a blink of an eye. still, it seems ...practical; and establishing a denning site — even if she slept outside of it — will help her to acclimate. she uses the dwindling light of sunset to illuminate her hunt; mercurial, frostbound gaze studious and nose to the ground as she sniffs out a rabbit warren — too much work, she decides — to an abandoned den of some sort, the entrance of which was full of too many gnarled roots. she pauses and eyes it wearily, suspecting that even if she managed to wiggle herself into it she would struggle to get herself out. still, she pushes her muzzle against it, teeth gripping one of the roots to test how thick and strong they held. they resisted and she gives up with a sigh of resignation; resolving herself to keep looking.