Twisted Slough in the big rock candy mountains, all the cops have wooden legs

While the momentary recess upon the plateau had thrilled him to no end, Pendragon knew they would have to keep on moving. He didn't know where they were supposed to end up, but the man trusted his betters. The thought of raising the kingdom's children upon a cliffside brought him many pleasant memories of his home, but also reminded him of the dangers inherent to such a lifestyle; these wolves, although hardy and loyal, did not seem the type to do such a thing. So when they inevitably were made to march again, Pendragon had been on his feet and distancing himself.

Perhaps he had been with the group long enough now, though it was only a few days, that they trusted him? He was soon granted access to the children, but he assumed (almost with a bitter tinge to the thought) that it was because the rest of the wolves were tired of them. Many seemed less inclined to aid the new parents, outright avoiding them, and it made him wonder. On one hand he understood the wrongness of two common-blood wolves bringing unneccessary life (and work) into the lives of the general population; on the other, they were alive, and by that fact alone they deserved protection and care. So, when given the chance to watch them, he did it with as much zeal as he could muster.

Pendragon was never alone with them though — or ever, really — and as the pack crested a hill heading towards the nearby moors, he found even his attention drifting. There was a sulfuric stench to the air that made the bile rise to the back of his throat. A thick fog began to move in around the band, and while he was at first concerned with the safety of the child he watched, the guard partnered with him was swift to scoop up the babe and take them somewhere safe (though they cast a baleful glance his way). Without a purpose now, Pendragon chose to adventure through the mists.

They grew thick the further the pack migrated through them. Soon, wolves were replaced by amorphous shapes and dark, shadow-like replicas; travel was therefore stalled as an unease swept through them all. This fog was something ethereal indeed — nothing like the brine-filled clouds he was used to — and with a stern look of determination, Pendragon began to fjord his way through the thick of it in search of the queen. At the very least he could make sure she was safe, for she carried the future, and that was of paramount importance.