Kintla Flatlands That's just how I feel

Viggo's family history must have been rich. She might have heard his surname once or twice before, and as though to indicate it her head tilted and her eyes shone with curiosity, but she couldn't recall from where. She didn't realize it dated back to her great grandfather and the original Silver Creek pack, which no longer existed. Quail had never been very forthcoming with stories of her past, and Ptarmigan had assumed that there was probably a good reason for it.

“Sounds nice,” she mused with a faint smile, taking the opportunity to sidle a little closer. She hoped she was being inconspicuous, but likely she looked just as goofy as she had when she'd posted. “Why would you leave such a place? No attractive ladies there?” Was everything about attractive ladies? she mentally asked herself. Of course it was. He was a stunning specimen with his exotic pale agouti fur. There was really no question of attractive ladies, just the question of how many there were.

Or, more likely than not, he had been forced to disperse as she had. That thought never did cross her mind, though.