Eventually, a hovel loomed out of the dark. A pole had been stuck in the ground near the door; a rope had been tied to it and was hanging over the cliff. Bitterroot’s heartbeat picked up, especially once Trace said, “Two sets of hoofprints in… one set out. Whoever came out went down the cliff.” Trace finally lifted her head up and her horn started flashing. After a few seconds, she said, “No magical traps from what I can tell. The remains of some spells, perhaps, but nothing we need to be worried about.” She shifted from hoof to hoof and looked nervously at the door. “Should we…?”