Redhawk Caldera winds from the southwest

A stranger (or at least he was somewhere in that spectrum) approached and addressed her as "Lady Fox" of all things. Fox had a good chortle at that. "Just Fox," she replied, "And who does that make you? Mister Walrus?" She wasn't even sure if he'd get the joke, but it was the first gray animal that came to mind. It was a silly little thing, but ever since Fox had popped out kids, she couldn't help but constantly be on the lookout for more future names. Or nicknames for her current saplings (which was how "Dhole" had come about).

Fox shifted her weight ever-so-slightly between her feet, looking down upon her loyal(?) subject with dull grey eyes. She wondered what his back story was. Where had he come from? Where was he going? Did he plan on staying here, with Redhawk, for the rest of his days? Or was he more like the majority who seemingly came and went as they pleased? FitzDutiful was still the sole wolf who had left after saying goodbye.