Barrow Fields lay your weapons down

If Laurel had known what went on in Artaax' head she would be very pleased, for his thoughts were exactly what her brightened mood was supposed to unlock in another. The thought that they were wanted, desired, important in some way to her. That way they would be nicer, give her what she wanted and would help her if she needed it. Either way, he seemed friendly enough, and he wasn't unpleasant to look at either, she admitted.

He said he was hunting and introduced himself as 'feisripa' (whatever that meant) of Drageda, a pack on the cliffs further north. By the ocean. He asked her a question in return, asking where she'd come from. I'm travelling with my sister, she convenient left out Marten's presence. She didn't want him there anyway. We're looking for a yearling, a boy called Lucas who has my fur colour but with white mingled in. Only as an afterthought she added: And another of the same age with black ragged hair called Wyatt. Maybe he had seen either. Realising that she hadn't really answered the question, Laurel added: We come from Bearclaw Valley originally. All this was shared with a kind and interested smile on her face, her voice almost bubbly and excitable; an entirely different side of Laurel than her family and pack ever got to see. Only strangers got this privilege.