Felltree Marsh I wanna be disco

So gorgeous. Thank you!

That answer elicited an immediate smile and sense of kinship. "Outrider?" she guessed, using the colloquial term for a scout. "Me too," she said, both in response to her own question, as well as Ravel's self-proclaimed title: "perpetual wanderer." Wildfire's head tipped as she considered the name, as well as the wolf who wore it. She was beautifully gray-scale—the smoke to her fire, perhaps—her eyes a delightful shade of green that reminded the yearling of spring.

"Would you happen to have come across fresh water in your explorations? I'm thirsty." Realizing that that sounded like some strange introduction, she clarified, "I'm Wildfire. And I knew you could unravel but I didn't know you could just plain ravel," she quipped. She was neither a male, nor old enough to bear children, yet she seemed to be full of dad jokes all of a sudden.