Redhawk Caldera you never feel the jet lag unless you're trying to fit in.

Artaax was quite prepared to spend his day drowning in his own misery and self-pity, but a shrill, high-pitched voice reached in and dragged him out. With a start, the boy turned to frown at the small, silver pup that was racing towards him. He glanced back towards the den up the hill, spying the Caldera's alpha talking with a packmate. Apparently she had brought a pest with her, or so the young boy thought as he looked again at the kid who had so rudely interrupted his solitude.

"What did you call me?" Artaax said as she came near. It sounded like she'd called him smelly, but that didn't make any sense. He smelled just like he always had, though the scent of saltwater had unfortunately faded some from his fur.