The Sunspire I miss the taste of a sweet life

Silence remained. At length, Ptarmigan grew bored of it, even with the occasional shifting of Red and the startling introduction of a sneeze into their unwritten symphony. The pair simply had little to say, and for as long as the lone female persisted on the borders, she suspected the hybrid would persist on her. In another time and place, she might have made great strides in coaxing Red to chase her by threatening the borders more readily, but today, her friendship won out.

“Welp,” she yawned as last, standing and stretching exaggeratedly to give Red ample time to say something if she wished to, “best be hittin' the road. Watch yourself, packs can be dirty.” Though the specifics of Ptarmigan's reference to her forced dispersal in her youth were hazy due to omission of said past, it was one of the better pieces of advice she had ever given. If nothing else, the Endore could speak for watching one's back in a pack, even one composed of family. With that last warning, she turned and began to lope away, thankfully not in the direction of Swiftcurrent Creek.