Bramblepoint in the woods somewhere

The Crowfeather wolf did not see much for altercation with a stranger in the heat of a famine. It was far more trouble than it would have been worth for either one of them. He did not know how those who had survived there were lasting. As his pale eyes roamed Dash’s figure with a burning curiosity, he noted the thin features and the jutting bones. Still, the inky wolf stood and hunted and communicated without lashing out in a vicious attempt to feed. Sawyer’s eyes followed the point of the dark wolf’s muzzle in the direction of a mountain that sat not too far away. It loomed over its surroundings with a dignity that could not have been beat. It was surely a beautiful place to call home.
 
A question then slipped past the other’s mouth and caught the swivel of Sawyer’s ear. He turned his attention away from Moonspear and fixated his eyes on his present company. “Just thought it best that I set out on my own… try n’ make a name for m’self. Got a big family back home and after a while you start itchin’ for greener pastures,” he answered carefully. “Though I ‘spose your pastures aren’t all that green,” he then added with small smirk.