Valley of Gold Hear Santa Monica, I swear it's calling me

It was the voice of a stranger which finally broke through her haze of thoughts. Foxglove, ever eager for company, halted with her ears standing tall and her tail swaying merrily. She only paused for a moment, just long enough to take in the sight of him; young, like her, but with furs in pale muted tones that matched the wintry mood of the land.

Hiya, She called back, starting toward him. She sniffed at the air delicately, testing the mix of scents. No pack scent; just him. Just passin' through?