Haunted Wood Inside my heart feelin' the Inferno!

A patrol? Clay distantly remembered his father doing such a thing. The patriarch would get up before the sun touched the horizon and return just as it was. Clay was curious as to why he would do such a thing—Serem too. He tipped his head, looking down and puffing his cheeks up as he thought. "A patrol? Why do we patrol?"

He fell into her foot-falls, his own paws pattering after hers. For ever step she took the boy had to take at least two just to catch up. When she asked about the smell he sheepishly looked away. "Nothing! I was just... smelling."