Silvertip Mountain I will personally stab you in the eye with a foreign object

Dagfinn came dashing in soon after the others, a happy bark falling in greeting from his muffled jaw. The weather was affecting them adversely, but not quite so adversely as some of the prey animals around. Dag's tail windmilled excitedly as he dropped the half-frozen deer haunch on the cave floor, looking between Reek and Jhala as if waiting for praise.

Whether or not praise was forthcoming, Dag paraded around for a moment, passively submissive but adopting a goofy strut as he sniffed out their cave, checking it for dangers. Eventually, he settled down, finding a place where his shoulder could butt up against Moon-butt's and his haunch against Jhala's. A deep, heavy sigh reverberated as he rested his head over Moonbrook's shoulders, offering the warmth and affection that seemed to roll off of him in waves.

Life was, once again, good.