Dawnlark Plains I'll see what tomorrow brings

A low hum of acceptance left him, not terribly concerned with the pronounciation of his name. He, too, struggled with pronouncing foreign names, and could not fault the woman for something so simple, something that mattered so little. Besides, he was more interested in what she said next. Ears perking, he considered how long her travels must have taken, speaking of the two-legs and temperature. That this was cold to her baffled the man, used to temperatures that drove wolves to burrow in the snow during the night to retain heat.

He did not yet know if he felt she would fit in with the wolves at the Watch well, and so said nothing of it yet and instead spoke of other packs that he had come across. Many. A tribe upon the sea-cliffs, a tribe more south in a Glen, others that this one has not yet discovered or met. Still no luck, still no lichen. Or anything else useful. Many wolves hunt these lands, more than this one is used to. Many tribes for many wolves.