Sequoia Coast Need some air

Thistle Cloud Loðbrók was a mouthful, and slipped through Ptarmigan's mind faster than soap through fingers. About the only thing she caught was "cloud", which she committed to memory instantly. That would be the single name forever credited to the blue-eyed, honey-furred wolf, who admitted she was a wolf who was born on the coast. A coastal wolf, one of those very specimens she had just indirectly insulted.

She didn't scramble to correct herself, though, partly because Cloud was still speaking and partly because she wasn't really that sorry. Different tastes, and all that. “I come from the north too,” she said brightly, not realizing that "the north" defined specifically the upper reaches of the tundra rather than just north of their current location. “My whole family is from the north!” That might have been more true. She really didn't know her ancestry that well.