Whitebark Stream We had already scorched the Earth once.

When at last Artyom found fresh paw prints in the snow, he shifted to follow. The trail brought him to a gentle slope that overlooked their frozen stream and, cresting the hill, his gaze found the long-legged figure of his newest comrade. The ranger approached from behind with a soft 'wuff', and eased to halt a comfortable distance from him.

"Connor," he greeted smoothly, recalling his name with ease. Artyom settled to his haunches and blinked skyward, studying their watercolour sky with a hum of admiration before he returned his attention to the pale recruit. "It is quite a view, don't you think?"