Dragoncrest Cliffs party down with vigor and candor

She alternated between feeding and resting, gathering her strength. By the nth day of this, she had a bad case of cabin fever, yet Haunt didn't want to venture out into the snowy conditions until she knew she could handle it. She wouldn't do anyone any good—and wouldn't be able to repay her debt—if she died. Besides, she didn't want to follow in her father's footsteps in any way, particularly into a grave.

Finally, she felt ready to brave the snowstorm. Her stomach was full but she decided to see if hunting was a totally lost cause. It was time she started contributing to the pack's caches, to give back a little after they'd kept her fed these past few weeks. She hadn't so much as tracked prey in what felt like ages, so she was eager to hit the trails, despite the inclement weather.

Somehow, she found herself at the base of the sea cliffs, the ground underfoot rocky. She spotted the tunnel's black mouth but didn't notice the dark figure standing in it until he shouted. Haunt started a little, freezing as she discerned the young wolf silhouetted against the subterranean shadows. Eyes squinted, she ventured closer, announcing her own presence with a low woof.