Dawnlark Plains trying for years to flee

Grayday was still learning to navigate the new landscape. It was easier in that there were no trees to run into here, but more difficult because the ground was not quite as flat. He could still sort of see the outlines of trees, in the right light. There was no way he could see a pothole underneath the snow.

So it was with a bloody nose and scraped cheek that he arrived on the scent, bumping his nose against Pema's flank in a gesture that was partway in greeting, but mostly to help him establish where the hell everything was. At least the stranger had her back to the sun, and Grayday could see that she was a slimmer shewolf, perhaps somewhere near Sunny and Dawn's age. Naturally, this earned the girl a bit of leeway where Grayday was concerned.

"Ask away," he offered, shooting Pema a look that might once had been curiosity; the longer he went without seeing expression on the faces of others, the worse he got at manipulating his own features. "I can't promise we'll answer, but I can't think of a reason why we wouldn't."