Rising Sun Valley precious and fragile things

The brute's visage was positioned facing north, out where the valley opened up into Swiftcurrent's realm. Slowly he picked his way down the steep grassy terrain to the nearby pine trees. His white fur was rubbed up against the rough bark, and his eyelids closed over his pale orbs as an itch melted away underneath his soft fur. Small droplets of water were beginning to trickle down the needles and discolor his muzzle as cold rain began to roll in.

Something blurry moved in the distance, a figure climbing up the steep grassy hills that led to the alpine levels that Dovev stood on. At once he stepped away from the shade of the tree, his legs falling into a confident stride. With parted jaws he extended his nostrils, scenting the approaching wolf, and slowed to a stop. He smelled like Swiftcurrent, and the white beast lowered his tail and watched the dark-hued male cross the meadow. He spoke a greeting in a strange, accented word, and then reiterated again.
Hello, you must be from Swiftcurrent Creek.
Dovev shook out his pelt, the rain picking up intensity and cooling the air several degrees. This male was the second one of his packmates he had met who carried some remnant of a natal dialect. Not that it bothered him, as more over he was entertained by the range of characters in the pack. The arctic creature met his eyes and his tail flickered slightly, the base raised as if to preclude his seniority in the lower ranks.
I am. What brings you up this side of the mountain?