To the east, the packlands come to an abrupt stop. A steep cliff looks out over vast sheets of ice and then to the bone-chilling grey waters of the Bitterice Sea. No one dares to cross the icefields for fear of the ice giving way and freezing before they could reach the surface again. No one comes here very often other then to watch the sun or to try a paw at seal hunting which is discouraged unless it is done in numbers. Only in the deep of winter do the wolves dare to come here and hunt seals and walruses to feed the pack.