Bearclaw Valley And I'll be in Scotland afore ye

Orson let the question fall flat. She wouldn't get much answer, it seemed. The woman was mute — either physically or by some other means (the possibility of which was endless, and Orson wasn't going to get any answers. Aye, it's me name. Don't wear it out an' all that, she chuckled. The dark furred woman began to sniff around Orson, getting rather close to her. She tucked her tail in. Not only was she close to whelping, but from Fraser's display, highly ranked. Merrick's lass then? They were young for it, but worst things have happened. Where're ye from, Fraser?