Firestone Hot Springs lakes formed in the wolf's tracks

Hot springs.

Skwol's gaze drifted from the stranger to linger on the pool. His ear twitched as he wondered: how could there be heat underground? How did this wolf know? The white wolf did not inquire. There were many tales of strange things and he had seen things that defied explanation himself. He was a wolf to question but he was also a wolf to accept that some things simply were.

He moved closer, caution still characterizing his steps and gold eyes still watchful of the other male. The mention of the water's healing properties intrigued him and it was that interest that coaxed him to the edge of the pool opposite of his companion, where he sniffed at the pool and the ground.

"I am Skwol." He answered as his tongue flicked out to taste the water. The combination of the heat and the odd tastes was not welcome and he quickly shook his massive head. "I have come from the north, from a mountain known to mine as the Broken Fang." Skwol lifted his head then and angled his ears forward, expecting a reciprocation of his introduction.