Bearclaw Valley it don't matter if the cold wind blows

when the punctuated yips of his voice rekindled the wild with their sound indra strode towards the source, letting up only as his dark shape came into view. in strident steps she pulled herself towards him, both confusion and concern wrought across his muzzle -- how had he come here -- who had let him in -- these thoughts clustered her mind and showed visibly in the worry that fretted her muzzle.

he looked hale enough; no markings marred his visage nor did any pain sequester in the bronze of his gaze. she lifted her chin as he greeted her, standing still as he wriggled -- it was assuring to be greeted this way, and her posture loosened significantly as she drew a deep breath and stepped back, regarding his slim form. "how'd you get here?"