Lost Creek Hollow it's the king's turn

“That sounds pretty awesome,” Lagon responded with enthusiasm, because his perfect weather would not be the biting chill that had settled into the tendrils of his fur — though he was pleased to know he didn't even notice it so long as he kept moving, generating body heat to regulate his body temperature. Plus, his dark coat probably helped for the smoky black coloration tended to absorb the warmth of the sun and this made Lagon extremely glad that he skipped out on the pale genetics that his mother and father were known for. “But I guess perfect weather could never be a thing because everyone's idea of perfect weather is different.” So he supposed the fluctuation of seasons worked to please everyone's different preferences rather nicely. Root's following question threw Lagon for a brief loop but he responded honestly with a breezy: “Nope.”

“What about you? Do you have a bunking partner?” Lagon asked in return, figuring it wasn't a weird thing to inquire, especially since she'd asked first. His gaze leaves her for a moment, ears slicking back as his dark gaze scanned the forest like a drone might, looking for anything that outwardly appeared out of place, or for movement too big to be brushed off as a small woodland creature. It wouldn't be wise to trespass, not in the winter when a lone wolf was hit hard by the scarcity of prey, nor because there were two running this particular patrol; nevertheless Lagon was always ready.

“Oh yeah?” Lagon murmured his inquiry, offering her a charming smile as she mentioned that she noted his scent upon the borders and stated her surprise that she had yet to actually run into him during their patrols. “Maybe we just happen to always miss the other's patrol? At any rate, if you ever want a patrol partner to run with I'm always available.” Maybe running patrols in pairs would prove to be a good idea. That was two sets of ears and eyes and offered the chance to get to know one another better.