Ravenshook Cliffs there's a second wind coming, as we lie here in our bed

He had the gumption to understand that nature was an audience of its own, but the wit to realize that birds weren’t good critics. Of course, the only birds he’d found here were screechy, and quite rude as they dove past him for the ocean below. He knew, somewhere in the back of his head, the part of him shoved away in favor of making merry, the part of him that was the chief healer of a pack before he was a year old, that the birds were merely looking for food. But it still hurt, to be so rudely snubbed. He was an entertainer at his core, even as he nearly tripped over another divot in the ground.

Lullaren swayed his step towards the very edge of the cliff side he clung to, dancing the dangerous game with mortality as he spun and weaved, spinning on the knife’s edge. He didn’t notice his audience in the form of another wolf, merely closing his eyes and praying gravity didn’t cash in its chips and send him spiraling to the ocean.