Emberwood There's no such thing as time to kill, nor time to throw away

Dusty Rose did know what was at stake, and he was not about to give anything up. He ranged out past the others when he was feeling restless, and when he was tired, he found one of the kids and dozed nearby in fitful bursts. It was the trees, really, that made him so nervous. In the water hunts, you could range out a mile and still see the pack behind you. But he lost eyeline here so quickly, and there were so many unfamiliar scents. He covered them with his own where he could, so that he would notice fresh tracks if and when they came.

He was following — y'know. One of kids. He knew which one, and that was only natural, he supposed. But he did not like having a name for it in his mind. He did not like that he had a favorite.

So when the kid entered someone else's line of sight, Dusty Rose nodded to his packmate and eagerly split off for a break. There was a clouded, mulish expression on his face as he wandered — but it cleared, just a little, when he came upon this scene.

"You like it here, huh?" he said as he drew closer, sniffing at the flowers that were not yet crushed underneath her.