Bitterroot Valley mary, mary, quite contrary

"I believe you," he conceded with a smile, though avoiding laughing because he was aware the slate pup could find offense in that. The child was more fiery than he had anticipated, making Rickon wonder if the warmer earth here simply bred a more choleric wolf. His tail began to wag despite himself, and though he kept an eye out for anyone approaching, he was feeling far less nervous than when he had first been discovered. The situation was tenuous, but he was now more than a little curious about the girl— wondering at the depth of her intelligence, and if he had been anything like this early last year. "I don't have a Heda," Rickon admitted, watching for her reaction to this. "I'm all by myself for now,"