Whitebark Stream There are names across the sea, only now I do believe.

He seemed pleasant enough in his retort, though there was something a little off in his demeanour. The ranger pricked a gold-tipped lobe and canted his muzzle curiously. "You guess?" Artyom parroted with a playful tease to his tone, though it was meant to be rhetorical; whatever plagued Salvatore was his own, and it was not his place to pry.

"It has been well," he carried on, skipping over the potentially delicate subject of the other male's uncertai headspace, "just thinking of Springtime, and what it will bring for us."