It wasn't wise, really. Anxiety crept up oversized paws, making the joints feel like gelatin. There was no reason for him to be here, contemplating the depths of the caverns the man found himself in a little over a moon ago. It was his own stubbornness and pride, a push to face his fears and conquer the claustrophobia that had already begun to grip at him, that drove Moore back to the Whispering Caverns once more.

Pacing back and forth in front of the mouth of the cave, intense eyes darted around in the depths, his mind working in overdrive, covering everything that could happen. Most of it being everything that could go wrong. What if he got lost, stuck? What if a wall collapsed, trapping him within a stony tomb, his pack unable to find him? Large head drooped at the thought, black ears cupped back in agitation and fear. Small, confined spaces had always been a problem for him to begin with. On the flip side, what if something happened and someone had to go into the caverns for something? A hostile wolf, a cougar, some poor, lost soul? If he needed to be there, he had to conquer his fears first.

With a growl of frustration rumbling in his throat, the bearlike man took a few confident strides into the opening, head and tail held high. Make it 'till you fake it, they always say. The faking part was short-lived, however, as a hush fell over the caverns, his own breathing and paw steps bouncing gently off the walls and deeper into the caves. There were no noises from within, but another thought struck Moore as he stood there, the ease at which someone or something could follow and attack from behind. Turning wasn't easy in parts of the cave, probably even likely for smaller wolves. And a small wolf he was not.

Another moment of contemplating accompanied by a throaty growl, Moore padded forward further, deeper into the entry cave. This was important to him; he was already here, no point in backing out now.