Firefly Glen you're familiar like my mirror years ago

Valtyr's bunt maw meandered in the air as his nostril's flared and tasted the stranger's scent on the damp breeze -- only to realize it wasn't a stranger at all. It was the old man from a few weeks back, still wandering through the central section of Great Bear Wilderness. He suspected they would never meet again, as most wayward travelers didn't cross paths twice, but it seemed they had each settled down in the area. The Sveijarn slowly rose to his feet with a yawn and gave his sandy pelt a good shake. Small water droplets sprayed from his guard hairs as he licked his chops, vermilion ears pressed forward as he took a few steps towards the older wolf.

"Trying to have a row?" he jeered with a sooty grin, taking the other man's remark as friendly shade. "I'll have you know my pack and I took down a bear last week," a starved and weak bear... but a bear was still a bear and it had fed them all and more. However, the Fen's soft groud was ill-suited for the small game Valtyr sought, and so it was required to range far if one wanted to find decent prey. "This place just happens to be the best—" the boy's voice trailed as he got close enough to get a good look at Palestrike's poor condition. The elder was ragged and thin, aged beyond his days by the famine. Silver hair hung from his body like dead grass and his features were sunken. "Woah, Palestrike," Valtyr said in a concerned tone, dotted brows knitted together pensively, "you don't look so good. I mean... Since I saw you last." His tongue pressed against the back of his teeth, not wanting to sounds too rude... but the old man looked like his days were numbered.