Ghost Lion Crag Upward over the mountain

In a steady, measured gesture, Antares dipped his snout. I greet you rang as more familiar than he had come anticipating of the sandy-hue stranger. The rest was easy enough to hold onto though, then it even peaked in a new note of interest. So there was a search, even, for a runaway. Antares took only a half-second to consider it.

Not anyone I've crossed, he shared as he shook his head. Not recently, or ever. Not by that name. He supposed not by that description, either. Unless one considered Charles' fur dark enough to fall under that arch, which he did not. I've just come from a bit west of here, south a little too. No such anyone, the scout went on to share. Not a whole lot of anything on my road so far anyway, he added.

How fresh is the trail? he asked, in a very general sense that left Foxfur to decide what he shared, or didn't. With a runaway type of situation, hard telling.