Blacktail Deer Plateau oh here she comes.

Figment was a silhouette of umbra and shade; ink fur and emerald eyes set in spirit upon their path. Benevolent, good company, and the journey itself was nothing dreadful. He felt in his bones an ache of sorts, but freed nothing from his tongue – the ache had buried itself there before, dull yet doused in familiarity. It was not long since he had returned home, only to set out upon the soil again, but he didn’t mind, and he forgot about it swiftly; travelling was different with companionship. He liked it. It was exhilarating to move, this time with a purpose that didn’t dwindle over the days, no bygone odyssey – it felt good to help. The Blackthorn’s previous escapade hadn’t granted him as much.

He didn’t want to think about that now. He savoured this momentary freedom from thought.

As they neared the plateau, the rabbit-wolf crinkled his gaze, bronze glistening in the sunlight from his profile, as his partner shifted to call. It did not take long for a woman to approach, mottled pelage sprinkled in a bestrewing of indefinite light. This must be Wraen. “Ah, hi, I’m Cinder.” He uttered dutifully; lips bevelled vaguely upward at the corners in greeting. He hoped it polite to do so, despite the circumstances. He would give Fig a chance to talk, and wait for the younger to lead or give the go-ahead; he knew Wraen, and Cinder did not.