Barrow Fields permafrost giants

The stranger reminded him of his former pack leader, Yar, because Yar always met his smile with the same stony, suspicious stare as this wolf. Skífa's smile grew bigger and pointer, amused. He shifted his weight back a step, looking even more relaxed when in truth he was prepared to retreat if he had to. His hackles slightly tingled again, as he wondered if this other wolf was going to make an aggressive move. If he was anything like Yar, Skífa had to stay on his toes.

"Ah, I go that way. To the coast. See the ocean. Look for food... I come here after..." He trailed off momentarily. His smile darkened and then wavered for a second. "I have no home. Can't go far away from it if you don't have one, huh?" He snickered and took one restless step away. "And you - why let the fog lead you far from home?" He wasn't sure why he kept asking questions. Maybe because the other wolf seemed hesitant to answer them, and that was entertaining. Or maybe... maybe because this place made his skin crawl, and he wasn't sure he wanted to go back into the fog alone.

Cowardly, and probably wrong of him. He was probably safer alone, as always. Still, he was reluctant to leave just yet. Maybe in another minute, when the stranger ran out of patience and chased him off.