Bonesplinter Ravine Nod my head, don’t close my eyes

Kynareth’s mind isn’t as jumbled and pissed as he had been. Now with Simmik at his side he really more depressed now than anything. He’s had a lot of time to think on the way over here. He finds himself regretting his decision to nab the beta of Neverwinter. For if she escapes, it’d be hell on wheels for his pack. He doesn’t care about himself. They could chase after him for eternity, but his pack? Yeah, that’s a bit different. Though when he really thinks about it, these surrounding packs are so weak they’d probably let the rest of his pack go and hunt him down only. Not him. If he were then he’d kill the entirety of the pack just as he’s done many times before.

Still, as his mind goes every which way, he still finds himself teasing the poor woman as they enter the territory of the ravine. Dead grass and too many rocks make up the territory, with some trees too, but they don’t do much to liven up the scenery. So he head closer north of the ravine. It’s much, much shallower up there. 

Then finally he comes to the place he’s had in mind all along. A shallow pit, devoid of heavy water flow on the north end of the Bonesplinter — perfect. It’s a fair drop. One of about ten to fifteen feet. It would take at least two wolves to get Simmik out whenever he need to, which isn’t a problem to him, he has Nyra. The edges are jagged and some are gravelly, making for a near impossible escape. The total surface area of the pit looks to by comfortable enough, of around fifteen by twenty five feet. A small stream flows from the top of the mountain, into the pit, and down further into the ravine. Even better.

So after he’s done inspecting it he hums with a satisfied nod of a thick head. Turning to Simmik he smiles. “Alright. Jump in, dear.” He says as if it’s a joke. “Or I’ll throw you in myself.” Then his face makes it very clear that it is indeed not a joke.