Silvertip Mountain Light of a clear blue morning

Grayday stared hard at his friend for a moment before deciding that she wouldn't be moving very soon, and that he would probably hear her move better than he'd be able to see it either way. Contented, he closed his eyes and laid his head down on his paws, only to perk up once more as she asked about winter. Grayday had been through three by now, and had experienced only two kinds.

"It depends on whether or not you have a pack," he replied, thinking of the stark contrast between the two. He missed entirely the rest of her musings, too caught up in his own memories. "Which do you wanna hear about?"