Herbalists' Cache dewclaw mountain

Ah, well, then. Other Shore hoped the spirits would guide her in placing the dewclaws. If this was to be the most sacred den, as envisioned by Star Eater, then she would make it that. Star Eater seemed so, so brilliantly joyful. The idea of decorating a shelter to greet her pups into the world... it would excite any mother. 

Other Shore stepped forward and carefully picked up a dewclaw in her jaws. She inched up to the entrance of the den. Placed a paw on the structure. Tapped it. Once, twice. It was sturdy, and the snow, which she had thought would crumble away if she touched it a little too hard, remained in place.

Very gently, she pressed the dewclaw into the base of the entrance. A little snow fell away; she brushed it aside. Then she tapped it, ensuring it did not fall out. Then again, for good luck. She did not know why she felt inclined to tap it twice. It simply felt right to her. A little ritual of her own, she supposed.

She turned to Star Eater and peered over at what the woman was doing. Do we line the edge of the entrance? she asked. Or... did you want a path leading outwards? A pause, a moment of hesitant consideration. Or will we work on that later?

Questions. Too many questions. But Other Shore liked details, and she wanted this den to be perfect.