Redhawk Caldera how it got so cold that words just froze.

Pretending this happens before the puppy party leaves

Artaax sat quietly at the far edge of Drageda's camp, staring across the Caldera's slopes thoughtfully. He was wondering why exactly it was that the Redhawks were so passionate about holding such a dreary, ugly territory. It was so bland and empty, almost barren-looking with the thick blanket of snow draped across it. How could they live with so few trees to shelter beneath and just one, big ass pond in the center? Artaax couldn't imagine life without Drageda's forests, rivers, and cliffs, and most of all, the sound of the ocean waves rolling upon the shore. Longing for the smell of saltwater tugged at his heart and, not for the first time, he hoped quite fervently that this would all be over with soon and they could return home.

With a sigh, the boy stood and gave his coat a good shake. With nothing else to do, he decided to patrol the edges of their encampment. Not because he truly felt any need for it, but because he was bored and restless waiting for this show to get on the road.