Silvertip Mountain So you embrace them in the hopes that you'll survive

Grayday spat out the otter and licked the blood from his muzzle, feeling - for the first time since recieving it - the bite-wound on his cheek. His tongue couldn't reach it, but he'd worry about that later. "I said - 'That's clever.' The thing with the rock. The otter was pure luck - right place, right time - but I'd've never thought to hunt like that."

He meant it. Wolves in these lands possessed an ingenuity he was eager to learn. He'd never even tried to hunt a hedgehog - too many spines for his taste - but he knew how he'd try and go about it, now.

Her next question made his ears twitch back in chagrin. He wanted to be honest with her, but he didn't know how to explain the way things were going for him. "I find it hard... it's... hard to find..." he began, and then began again. Oh well. Whatever. "Never mind. Your name's Niita, right? How long have you been here? What is it like?"