At last, she felt like she was where she needed to be. As the darkness of the shadows of the Grotto enveloped her she felt the blanket wrap around her blood colored shoulders like a cloak. She could breath deep and finally feel the fear release from her with her breath. Few would find her here. In time, fewer would be able to follow her through the cracks and caves of the underground. Just as she had learned the ways of the mountains, she would learn the ways of the grotto. Her heart ached with a desperate desire to find a home here, to make a home here. Red eyes alight in the darkness, she stepped forward and all but morphed into the dark stones of the grotto.

Each step felt more and more sure, the young woman even started to lift her head happily the deeper she went into the caves. Expert in the ways of avoiding others, any time a scent of another wolf crossed her path she turned away from it. The dangers of cliffs and cut offs were real, and her haphazard explorations quickly led her to learn why many of these trails were not traveled by other loners. Once she even came across a small creek that came just to her shoulders, lapping at her underbelly. The water was cold, and she hissed a little when it sank through her fur to her skin, but felt relief on the other side when still there were no scents of others to cover the rough stone. Her heart hitched, her pace quickened and she continued deeper into the grotto. Stones became rougher, shadows darker and more distorting, she nearly cried with her joy and comfort at the solitude. Through her search she found a small crevice, comfortable enough to shelter her with a little room to stretch out and to grow. A grin spread across red lips and she lovingly, almost tenderly, rubbed herself against the rocks. They would carry her scent, and she would carry theirs. Just as the shadows were her blanket, these rocks would be her keep. By the twists and the turns and the depth of the cold water, she was confident few would come this far to find her and she would be able to come and go as she pleased. The seclusion was intention, whereas she felt sure for others it was mere choice and laziness.

Another breath of contentment, she once more touched her shoulder to the rocks that would be her home, and set off again. Back through the water, expecting the cold jolt this time, and onto the more worn trails that led through this terrain. Cautiously, she started to follow the scents of others this time. Each path she followed she worked to memorize. This scent led that way, there was sure to be someone living there with the thickness of the layers. Another scent seemed to flit back and forth, in and out, a consistent visitor, but not a long term resident. Each new layer she tried to create an identity for. Though she may never meet these scents, there was a real possibility she would still know who they were.