Sun Mote Copse sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions

Now they were in a pickle. The kid had no idea, what the name of his "roof" was, and Wraen wearily imagined the long journey it would take her to walk to the Keep or any other packs further away. She liked to travel on her own terms and, when it felt like it, now, however, was not a good moment to do so. But she decided to deal with it tomorrow or, whenever her absence would not make any difference to the kids playing around here.

"Wraen is a tiny and chattery bird. They are all around here," she explained. "I was born during a famine, I was the smallest and most fragile and therefore the choice of my name. My burly siblings, on the other hand, had rock solid names and - hence - they are neither chatty, nor... fluttery. Yeah, that's about right," she chuckled.

"How did you get lost? Maybe there is something particular you remembar about your home?" she asked him, deciding to fish for more details again.