Silvertip Mountain but what's inside you?

ridgeback. what a fitting name. he's more than willing to bet that he'd picked it out for himself. he stores his face and name in his mind, a card snug inside a wallet's pocket. his ears flick back. he's careful now, not wanting to get his feet more sodden than they already are. he wipes one sole on a patch of grass. there is barely enough light now for the quartz crystals to reflect. well, i'm looking for someone. maybe they're in here, he jokes. have any siblings, ridgeback? if he had street-smarts like urias thought he did, maybe he'd see what was implied by the question, by the half-assed quip.