Mudminnow River every hermit crab needs a shell

Swiftcurrent Creek, hm? Either that was his home, or his pack name. Maybe both, but it would explain the scent. Nothing like his family: scent of caribou, carnation. Cold air and, for Frederick in particular, the lands before this one. Pleasure, Lestan. A cool smile, blinking. You say more welcoming--are other packs hostile? He queried, directing the flow of conversation onto this man, Lestan Mayfair.

Sitting back with a mighty thump, Frederick rested his tail against the ground, curling it towards his flank every now and then. A break from mindless wandering could prove to be useful. Especially if it meant that he'd find himself with a new acquaintance. Another question, just to keep him talking: Come back from where--a nice trip, I hope?