Wapun Meadow According to the map, we've gone about four inches

She didn't answer him, but that was pretty standard for him—it wouldn't be the first time he had asked a question and been ignored. Ephraim had learned early on that questions were dependent on a response and easily manipulated, and so him asking them was more of a formality than real interest. He didn't care much about the answer unless it was of some benefit to him, rarely the case, and so he dismissed her lack of response and relaxed marginally, making ready to move on.

But Grezig was posing another question then and he let his dark ears slip higher on his head. "Dunno," he replied, just as helpful as before. He did, in fact, know where his parents were. They were right where he'd left them, some ways to the east, far enough that they couldn't be seen from there but not much further than that. But finding the words to say that was too much effort for a notoriously lazy kid like him; so much easier to answer vaguely. Their scents were so fresh on his fur, him having been with them mere hours ago, that it was impossible to mistake him for a vagabond.

And, anyway, he didn't have the foresight necessary to realize that talking to strangers and answering noncommittally wasn't the brightest of ideas.