Dawnlark Plains What To Do, Where To Go?

From his perch on the hill he could see the woman approach, his apple eyes wearily tracing her movements as the realization sunk in that he was her destination. The snow-splashed man didn't particularly care, was too numb, and only levelly gazed with faint curiosity. 

Her smile prompted one of his own half-assed, bitter smiles -- nothing like the bright eyed and bouncy gaited man of a few months ago -- and Zephyr nodded his head in greeting. The stranger stopped a distance away, and though he appreciated this, he motioned with his tail and muzzle for her to come join him on the rise. 

                           "I'll always have time to help a lost soul. Zephyr Maverick."

His voice was hoarse, strained, but as friendly as he'd greet anybody who'd never wronged him. His tail thumped against the earth a few times.