Emberwood right here is where my friends they used to live

Valtýr's heritage was mixed. His dam, the small and fiery Tuwawi, hailed from the southern flatlands where the winters were mild and the sun shined often. However, she had fallen in love with the Northern Njal, who thick accent, pale fur, and sturdy figure lend itself well for harsh and frigid terrain. In time, she had come to love the untamed polar landscape and its mountains which were familiar to her husband, and together they moved from Swiftcurrent to Duskfire to raise their young. However some of their children, Valtýr especially, appeared summer-born. His lean body and short sandy-colored pelt had a difficult time adjusting to the cold. The boy often spent his days huddled with his siblings while the adults searched and raised their new home.

The trials Duskfire faced meant there was little time to educate the pack's young on the ways of life. Simple tips, like the one Lucius offered, were new to the youth. Mother would have stopped to rest and warm her child, but the Roman was adamant. Val wanted so badly to whine or cry (Larus was usually the one who griped) but he merely pouted and followed the adult's recommendatio to give his body a vigorous shake. Though his joints ached and his ears felt frosbitten, a nice blanket of warm air coated his skin. It did feel a bit better, Val thought.

But the shake did not warm him nearly as much as Lucius' next words. Almost there. Oh to be back in the warm, SVeijarn den... it would be perfect. In his excitement, the child had nearly forgotten he had no idea where Duskfire was in the first place... which was probably for the better. "Where are you from?" the boy asked, wondering from what region the do-gooder hailed.