Witch's Marsh No sleeping now

Another wolf might have quirked an eyebrow at his string of aliases, yet Wildfire came with many nicknames of her own and didn't even question it. She did want to know, "Is there one you prefer?" It didn't really matter, in the grand scheme of things, as the chances of running into him ever again were pretty slim. "I go by Wifi most of the time," she offered as a sort of example, rolling her shoulder in a casual shrug.

He seemed particularly taciturn and didn't rise to the bait regarding his pack, so Wildfire deliberated whether to keep attempting conversation or just leave him alone. It would feel weird to dismiss him, as if she and Gavriel had any claim over this little strip of grass just outside the marsh. And she didn't want to pressure her companion to get up and leave just to avoid awkwardness, not when a rest was both well-deserved and needed.

In the end, Wildfire couldn't help herself. It was her inner ambassador, she supposed. "Did you come from south of here, by any chance?" she wondered. She was somewhat familiar with the terrain and had a route in mind to get to the caldera, yet she wondered if this passerby might know of any shortcuts.