Whitebark Stream I cut my bangs with some rusty kitchen scissors

He didn't ask what she wanted; he asked for her name. That seemed promising, from the perspective of starting a conversation. Lane was a wolf rather lacking in perception, and she did not register his bewilderment.

"Lane," she told told him. "..from Duskfire Glacier. For now, at least." Lane glanced over her shoulder toward the looming glacier. For some reason, it felt easier to divulge her dissatisfaction with Duskfire Glacier to strangers, rather than to her friends themselves, who might actually hold the power to change her mind.