Sunset Valley yeah. i couldn't either.

The other boy didn’t say anything as he worked up the strength to lift himself out of the snow. Swordfish felt improper watching Quennell struggle with the weight of his own body. He thought it was a frightening picture of vulnerability – one he could not properly face. When the red-naped boy made a grunt and found his footing was when the redtail thought it was fit to check him over.

Cold were the prods of his nose against Quennell’s shoulder, ribs, haunch. He sniffed at the other boy with a crease of worry in his expression. The scent of blood had become so commonplace that it seemed strange not to smell it so strongly. Both of their wounds had shriveled at the touch of winter and had almost ceased their bleeding. It might allow them a chance to get back home.

But which way was their home? Swordfish had never been out so far.

Quen… the young seafarer choked out. Do ya know where home is?

Was it wise to follow their stumbling bloody trail back to where they had encountered the Shardik?