Exhausted by the march--and absolutely not by the throbbing, angry, cold pain beating about inside her noggin--Brin trudges along with the other as she can, doing her best to avoid reaching into her pack for a hit off her jug. The supreme exercise of will keeping her from doing so become a bit easier as the auditory hallucinations start. Singing...no, just wolves and wind. I should relly lay off for a few days, maybe...

And it's a good thing she does, because cross that log bridge and climbing the treacherous path would have been something slightly more dangerous than a simple inconvenience if she were staggering drunk. But staggering hungover isn't quite as bad. She can at least walk straight if she concentrates. It just takes actual concentration, which inhibits her ability to otherwise pay the wolves much mind until their howls seems nearly on top of the the group.

"No...uh...maybe I can take a look without actually going in person." Brin cuts in, then reaches for her waterskin and takes a sip. Sometimes that helped. Sometimes.

Spoiler
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Use Remote Viewing ability to scan the area of the howls, if possible.