Sequoia Coast Need some air

“My mum had other plans for me,” she grumbled, clearly still upset with Quail even though three or so years had passed since she was driven out. “Came further south recently because freezing your teats off every winter isn't worth it.” Of course, Ptarmigan had yet to realize that she hadn't landed in the balmy Caribbean but, rather, another place plagued with the misfortune of winter. She would learn soon enough, no doubt.

“Everything wants to kill you,” she added with a frown. The further north a wolf went, the more golden and bald eagles they found, and the larger the bears got. She suddenly imagined (incorrectly) that maybe the eagles and the bears had become such a problem that they resulted in a mass exodus of wolves from the north. Granted, "the north" was a stone's throw when compared with what Thistle Cloud was really referring to, and the bears in Ptarmigan's north were very different than the bears in Ragnar's north.