Silvertip Mountain clang shmurda

The dark yearling responded with another short answer, one which Atreyu quietly breathed a sigh of relief at. Of course, he had known that he wasn't really trespassing upon claimed lands; there weren't any indications that the mountain still belonged to a pack but, still, he was glad he wasn't suddenly going to be ambushed by a rabid pack of territorial mountaineers. It had already happened once and he wasn't keen on stumbling down the steep cliffside a second time.

At the stranger's words, Atreyu quickly shook his head before thrusting his muzzle in the direction of the ocean. "Nah, I live near the sea" he said with a hint of pride. It wasn't so much that he thought it was some terrific feat to live along the coastline — it was more of a patriotic sort of pride. He grew up alongside it and so, in his mind, he belonged to it. And it belonged to him. That was about as whimsical as Atreyu's thoughts got before he turned his attention back to the male. He was a man of few words, it seemed. "It's much better than this stinkin' place."

Testing out his injured paw again, he winced as pain again seared up his leg. It was less painful now, but it still burned and reminded him that the mountain trails were not to be messed with. As much as he disliked them.