Porcupine Ridge thunderclouds

When Granite came to it was night time. A waning gibbous moon illuminated the quarry at the bottom of the ridge where a pile of shale half-buried the young pup. He coughed, disoriented, and then groaned. Thankfully, young kids were made to be indescribable. He would wiggle his toes... move his legs... and slowly, but surely, the boy pulled himself from the debris. 

He looked up at the cliffside from where had had fallen. To him, it appeared like a skyscraper - so tall that you couldn't even see the top. Granite's ears cupped his head as his tail tucked beneath him. He was alone. And afraid.