Cedar Sweep i'll just keep go-go'n and this dance is on you

her name offers nothing illuminating so delight gives up the ghost and resigns himself to being annoyed for a whole half day. "yeah," he says in answer to her question, pointing over his shoulder with his slim muzzle. "my pack, tindómë, is in the forest that way." 

he looks back at her, silver eyes curious. "how 'bout yourself? just passing through?" the androgyne asks. it seems to be the case for a lot of folks, but under this much cold and snow, he doesn't envy any out by their lonesome. she doesn't smell like a pack wolf but who knows -- delight's gotten used to meeting all sorts out in the sweep.