Wild Berry Meadow dig that hole, forget the sun

After falling off the cliff—luckily, not a far drop—and recovering from it, albeit with a pair of broken ribs courtesy of his bighorn friend, Ramsay left the mountains. Being a solitary creature, he did everything possible to hide outward signs of his injury, but in order to manage it, he had to move at a more leisurely pace than he was used to. Despite all his best efforts, there was even more rigidity to his movements than was typical for him, for certain movements strained his ribcage more than the average wolf and the pain sometimes made him falter.

It was several days before he made his way back to ground level and located the dark forest looming in the foothills. He always knew he'd be back here, one way or another. Ramsay hadn't intended it to be like this, him injured and seeking a safe place to properly recover without worrying about all the other dangers vagabonds faced, but life made her own decisions. He could do nothing but follow along. He wondered what Kove would think of him now, having been gone so long and returning with neither Cicero or Euron accounted for. He supposed he would tackle it when he got there.

Ramsay padded slowly across the meadow, composing himself and rearranging his posture half a dozen times until he could stride almost unimpeded. That's when he heard the laughter and stopped, drawing himself up to his full unimpressive height and lifting his head as much as his stunted body would allow. The pull of his muscles made him grimace. Two wolves were frolicking in the snow, or... well, one was and the other was just drifting along in her wake. Ramsay wouldn't recognize Titmouse—they'd only met once and he had been a young child, and Titmouse's fur had been more grey then—but something about the other wolf made him stop short and watch them silently, trying to place it.

It couldn't be...