Silvertip Mountain There's a room in a hotel in New York City

By the time Luke was approached by another male, the crows had just about ceased their cawing and after a few passing circles were making their way back to their nest, content that they had 'driven' the predator far enough away from their clutch. In truth, if he had the opportunity it was highly likely he would have taken the eggs or even the young in the nest, though he would have preferred the eggs. Such a rich and delicious treat was highly seasonal and thus not readily available. Usually when he found eggs they were from ducks or geese, nestled in the reeds of a swamp, but even those nests were not always easy to find. But alas, as talented a climber as he was he was not part squirrel and could not climb a straight trunk to the top where the crow's roost.

"Well hello," Luke greeted his company, recognizing by scent that this male lived among the mountain wolves whose borders he was skirting. Fortunately this one seemed friendly, and like so many others, he was quick to make note of Luke's blue nose. "Oh no, I'm fine," he chuckled. "I was born with a few blue pieces, but I'm perfectly healthy." His tail wagged and he sported a friendly smile. "Name's Luke."