Dragoncrest Cliffs Please unravel my soul,

Rusalka, uprooted. Valravn, gone. Miranda slept with one eye open, could barely trust the howling of the wind. The sea-breeze front with its swaggering cumulus head casts a soft shadow. He paces, restless along the shore. He could close his eyes and just as easily imagine that he was back in Alaska, somewhere untamed and larval to the rest of the world.

A flash of movement catches his attention. The greyscale girl with the foreign name — the medicine smell is unmistakeable. She's chasing after something, but what? He follows, ears perked, thinking that he sees a creature small and dun bobbing just out of her desperate reach.

He calls out to her with a low bark. It was his belief that wolves should not let rabbits get the better of them.