Flycatcher Downs i can't remember the good old days.

Whittier hadn't really expected that this gentleman would be any help on his quest. He was too ...different... for that, or so the young wolf's mind decided with little consideration for what reason he had to think it. Still, as the stranger happily told him he knew nothing and took his leave, the Frostfur boy couldn't help but frown in frustration. His lack of success had seemed quite a bit less annoying back when he was still miles and miles and miles away from even the Wilds. But now that he was here (and he was like... 85% certain that he was), the days were starting to wear on his patience. So close, yet so far.

Standing, Whit shook himself to relieve the tension that had built in his shoulders. He gave one last frown up at the hill he'd tumbled down from as though this whole thing was all its fault before turning his muzzle upward to sniff at the wind. A useless gesture, really; it told him nothing of any help. But it was really for show anyway. He hadn't made it this far by actual skill. He pointed his paws to the West and off he went again.