Blackfoot Forest rippling out through his past and future

a second look is given to the toadstool for a few moments before wintersbane's eyes flicker back upon the stranger where they rest. "no," the tundrian responds to the question, and offers a slight wrinkle of his muzzle in distaste at the idea. "and to be blunt, i've got no desire to." wintersbane pauses here to draw his salmon tongue across his jowls. "besides, it must smell pretty putrid to be able to discern it from the rancid stench of fox that lingers all over this forest." he makes a disgusted noise in his throat despite that he's begun to grow desensitized to it. he couldn't imagine anyone wanting to live in this territory for the simple fact of the smell alone, mentally adding that the foxes would no doubt be aggravations and competition for local food sources. "it's not a very pleasant territory, in my opinion." but it was good for cutting through if one wasn't looking to traverse the mountains north of it.