Blacktail Deer Plateau Fade away

Renoir thinks he sees recognition flit across Wildfire's gaze, and gives her a smile - or as much of a smile as the sad sack could muster, given the circumstances. Then the wolf just beyond them is talking, prattling on about the end of the world, and Renoir feels himself grow nervous. What if they are right? If the land has been stripped bare everywhere, then what good is this place to any of them? He would bring this news back to the Donnelaith and tell them of the great misfortune; perhaps they would choose to escape the wilds? Participating in a great exodus would be difficult, but surely living here among the dead lands would be worse?

He thought of the fine young girl, Deirdre, and the few others he has met among the wolves there — and with a small sigh, Renoir shakes the thoughts from his head. Although Wildfire posed a question to both himself and this stranger - Chosovi she calls herself - Renoir cannot help but answer the gray woman's comment: Mond lan is still here, it is just diferan.

Then with his eyes upon the red girl, he explains, Da coast is not safe eider. Mwen come from Donnelaith; da trees be bare, and no grass grows. Da green, li se ale,  this last phrase he says sorrowfully, and even if none of the wolves present understand the phrase exactly, he hopes they can identify his sadness with the admission. If the world is empty from the coast all the way to the mountains, then what is left?