Blacktail Deer Plateau the longing of the dead

"I have not," Dante responded, a slight laugh behind the words. He hadn't really thought of that being odd before now, but he supposed it was a bit. He just didn't normally settle in like that. "Guess that makes me a bit of a heathen. Give me a nice tree any day, I'll sleep just as well!" Honestly he wondered if his sleep would in fact be bothered by being cooped up within walls. He hadn't slept that way since he was a very small pup.

He did tend to find shelter when the rains came, though. There was usually something to hunker beneath, especially around the Plateau. He had his locations and tended to go to whichever was nearest at the time... a stone outcropping, a paticularly thick stand of trees, a large overturned log. They kept him relatively dry though on some occasions a den would be a nice commodity. "Necessity will call for something more insulated, though, I am sure. I'd rather not wake covered in frost." It had happened on more than one occasion last winter and wasn't fun.