The Sunspire Fear nothing

When it came to speech, Koontz took after her father, nearly never using the colorful language her mother preferred. Nonetheless, the quiet utterance of, "Oh, shit," summed up her initial thought upon hearing the first rumbles of thunder. Surprised and intrigued, the yearling turned her head, pale eyes and hoary ears questing for the source of the voice. She found it on a ledge parallel to her own and slightly higher up the mountain.

"My thoughts exactly," she called to the stranger. Examining the ground in between them and finding a relatively navigable towpath, Koontz began to shuffle up the rock wall toward the other wolf. En route, the stranger's scent teased her nostrils and she catalogued the information she discovered from it. "I was just heading down. Are you doing the same? There's probably a cave or something nearby, though, come to think of it—"

Before she could complete that thought, which was spoken aloud, her ankle gave way on a loose bit of rockery. Koontz stumbled forward as the ground gave away underneath her right forepaw. Luckily, she did not go careening down the mountainside. Instead, she buckled onto her belly, her chin hitting the ground hard. Feeling a little stunned from the sudden fall and hard impact, she scrambled away from the crumbling ledge, pressing her left flank into what felt like comfortingly solid stone.

"Damn," she muttered quietly, taking a deep breath and giving herself a moment to quiet her fluttering heartbeat. As she lay sprawled there, she blinked up at the stranger, wondering whether her accident had been more terrifying or hilarious to the onlooker.