Larksong Grotto and that's just how it works.

Boredom had moved Morticia's paws once more. From their camp abutting the Bracken Woods, she went westward again, cutting across the taiga with quick but idle steps. The snow didn't much agree with her doggish blood, so when she spotted the grotto ahead—and the promise of shelter—she approached in intrigue.

The matriarch took it slow down the descent, carefully choosing her next move along the rocks. About halfway to the bottom, she spotted another wolf—a rich reddish-brown pelt with a striking black mask along the top half of her face.

Morticia called out gently, then made it the rest of the way toward the young woman, gilded chin lifted as she surveyed the other.

Hell of a journey down, she remarked, clicking her tongue once against her cheek as she ruefully shook her head. I can't imagine why anyone would come, save curiosity. Is that what brings you here?