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

she watched, bemused, as he glanced from one side of his flank to the other -- his eyes wide as if some newborn babe, witnessing some fascinating thing for the first time. she remained still for a moment and then bent into a playful bow, her expression impish as she spoke. "nah." she sighed, as if admitting defeat -- only suddenly her gaze lit up and she looked at him pointedly: "unless fly means run, super fast." she didn't wait for a response -- instead, she tore for the woods like a drunken sailor heading towards an open bar with rum -- all headlong and reckless, with snow flung out underfoot.