precious and fragile things

Dovev was appreciative that Falwasi had approached him. The more packmates he met, the better bonds he would forge. Although he had plans brewing in his mind, the white wolf was eager to play a cohesive part in the creek. And playing the sociable role would discourage the growth of hate and unhappiness that might be found in other wolves who shunned contact with their packmates. Although he, himself, was never one for outgoingness, chatting with others was a necessary interaction and therefore should be endured with a pleasant smile upon one's face.

Far west? Tell me more, he echoed inquisitvely, lapsing into a moment of thought. All he knew west of Swiftcurrent was some sort of fabled beach, in which squalls and warm, humid air blew across the mountains and was funneled into lower valleys. It was one of the ways the park kept a range of ambient temperatures, from sticky and warm along the plains and dry, cool air amongst the peaks. It was one of the few downfalls Dovev had encountered this far south, as most of the flatland in his northern home country was extremely dry and cold. He had experienced variable winds and many thunderstorms here, and it was just a product of a totally different territory. Yet he knew there were many more lands in which his kind hailed from.