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

The red woman turned and trotted toward him with a smirk that curled her features. The sly little thief peered up at her through pools of bronze before he rolled himself into an upright position and shook his pelt free of hanging fragments. The snow had sloshed against his dark coat, causing it to stand in strange places. A smile still adorned his thin features, and Tadec lowered his torso to the earth with a stretching yawn. “Walk much, yes,” he informed her. “Indra is fast,” the wiry hound then added in an earnest tone.