Whitebark Stream We had already scorched the Earth once.

Awkwardness settled in the pit of his belly as his gaze studied the features of Whitebark's newest recruit. Honestly, he felt there was a certain hollowness to Connor that both unnerved and intrigued him, but Artyom clung to his desire to give him the benefit of doubt. He had done nothing wrong when last they met, and in fact had not even looked at Dawn in a manner her mate did not appreciate - for this, he found himself grateful, though admittedly somewhat confused.

"Yes," he agreed simply, eyes searching for the glimmer of stars here and there, "I imagine there are far more wonderful things to find." There had been a time that Artyom wished to travel all over, experience all that it had to offer. He had seen much on his journey, but no sunset or mountain view could ever rouse a feeling comparable to what he sought to find with Dawn.

He turned back to Conner, canted his velvet lobes back in remorse. "My name is Artyom. And I wished to apologise," the ranger explained, "for I had never taken part in the mating season before now. It made me paranoid that someone would attempt to bring harm to Dawn." A pause then, followed by the amused twitch at the corner of his mouth as he attempted humour: "I am not always an asshole."