Silver Moraine Race you to the bottom!

He could feel it - her smug attitude. If he weren't so tired and hungry, he might've argued further. That's what he told himself, at least. As it was, when she took off running, Revolver stubbornly refused to chase after her. Instead, he began sniffing around, hoping he'd be able to track something down and then rub it in her pretty white nose.

Thankfully, magically, incredibly, he actually found something.

"Ju!" he shouted, tail beginning to wag already. He headed off in a direction almost parallel to hers, but veered off-course to follow the thickening scent of decay. There was a bad wind blowing, and everything smelled like frost and stone to the mixed wolf, but he knew there was food around here, somewhere. "I think I smell something," he told her, hinting that now might be a good time to get her perky hindquarters into gear. But he couldn't say that, because she'd be angry at him. And also because he really needed her in order to find out where this disgusting (delectable) smell was coming from.