Hushed Willows we'll create an empire for you.

I think this is technically still within the pack boundaries... but idk geography is wat

Harlyn had spent much of her time thus far at the Keep helping her family settle and making sure the two families integrated smoothly. Though there remained unrest among a few within their ranks, both tasks seemed to be making steady progress. It had taken a while, but she had finally found a place of peace in this new pack, particularly now that Mordecai had rejoined her. It finally put Harlyn in a place where she felt comfortable venturing further from the protection of the Crook, as she did so that day.

Though it was not the Hollow, Marauder's Keep offered many things that she had treasured in her former home. It was less shaded and dark, but still gave her a feeling of being embraced and protected all around. With a twinge of sorrow, she thought of how Luke would have been disappointed with its lack of waterways in comparison to the Hollow, but it didn't matter much to her. What the land did have was sufficient, and anything it lacked was well made up for in the abundance of willow trees, which had always been a favorite of the druid's.

After a few hours, Harlyn found herself wandering along some of the higher reaches between the willow-covered valley and the Ridge to the East. There were certain plants that only grew in these rockier regions where vegetation was more sparse, and she was keen to see if this land would hold any of such treasures. She had just climbed up onto a higher shelf of rock and trotted over to a bundle of spindly brush, not yet painted with any of the green that had begun to seep into the rest of the world, when she heard a sound that stilled her heart and sent a prickle down her spine.

How Harlyn had failed to notice was a question that flashed very briefly in her mind the moment she heard the wild, snarling hiss of the wolverine only a few feet away. The druid froze in place, turning her head slowly until she spotted the creature's den - a simple crack in the rock out of which two eyes gleamed brightly. She swallowed, knowing perfectly well the ferocity of such animals, particularly when they had offspring like this one.

Harlyn took a step backwards to move away, but the wolverine took it as an opportunity to attack rather than to settle down. It was clearly driven by hunger as evidenced by the raggedness of its coat and the unnatural cling of loose skin over its ribcage. It took the druid by surprise causing her to hesitate. She'd barely lifted a paw when she felt teeth close around her ankle, tearing into her flesh.

The alpha cried out in pain and fear as the creature whipped its neck, dragging Harlyn to the ground as it did. At another time, she would have been better suited to fend it off. Perhaps she would even have been able to keep her balance against it. But the famine had effected her as well, making her weaker and slower in her reflexes than ever she had been in her life. So, down she went with a snap as her shoulder crashed into rock, sending sharp pains shooting through her side.

The moment she landed, she began to scramble for purchase on the ground to stand back up. The wolverine continued to lock its jaws on her ankle, tearing deeper until she felt its teeth grind into her bones. It was worse than any physical pain she'd ever felt, and so it was with reckless desperation that she wrenched herself wildly away. It took only a few bucking jerks before she tore herself free, but the sudden release of her ankle came as another surprise and the wolf flew backwards towards the edge of the precipice. Harlyn stumbled as she went back and tried to find her footing again, only to slip as her back paw searched the empty space behind her.

It had all happened in the matter of seconds, but when Harlyn found herself falling down along the steep wall of the ridge it felt as though time froze. She felt each stab of pain as her body bumped and slipped down the rocks; heard every crack of one bone or another upon solid surface, until she felt and heard no more.

The wolverine snarled in aggravation as it peered over the edge of the cliff some 70 feet above. The creature was starved, but not enough that it would attempt to make its way down to claim its meal. It licked the blood from its lips as it turned and trudged back into its den in the mountainside.