Chimera Fields beat up ford

The gold-cloaked lad chuckled at the mention of rain dancers. Turning his gaze to the sky, the boy inhaled heavily and held the breath for a moment before sighing. “Gee, I don’t know much about dancin’ for rain, but I’m willin’ to try just about anythin’ to get some clouds,” he spoke with the hint of a laugh still on the ends of his words. The good humor twinkled in his gaze as he pulled his vision back to Stark. The weather was mighty fickle, but it had always been a subject that had peaked the interest of the southern man. He had known a wolf from his home pack who could predict the weather with an astounding track record. Each time that Sawyer had asked the man how he’d done it, all he had gotten in return was a roguish grin and a wink. After some time, he’d given up.
 
When the other wolf mentioned his timing, Sawyer lifted his brows in response. “Well I’ll be…” he trailed with a faint grin. Flicking his ears forward and swishing his tail a bit, the golden man thought it nice that he had not been the only one to seek a home in the wilds during its trying time. “I came not too long ago myself. Good timin’ for the both of us, I suppose,” he observed in a careful drawl. The words were nothing but genuine curiosity to the fact that some would find it foolish to enter a plague-swallowed land and hope to find a home. “You like the folks you’re livin’ with?” he then inquired with a thoughtful glance.