Cricket Creek Bog noms away

Whimsy's eyes followed the lady's nose over yonder. She stared intently at the sky full of jagged peaks, quietly trying to comprehend why anyone would live on such inhospitable highlands. It wasn't in her DNA to hide the truth, which very plainly plastered itself on her face in a quizzical expression. She misunderstood that Moonspear stood beyond the place being pointed out.

Toad must have been really desperate for companionship if she was willing to live there just to be in a pack, that, or maybe the pleasant woman was some sort of irresistible alpine goddess. This was coming from someone who seemingly despised pack life though, so she didn't understand the appeal to begin with. She wouldn't touch a pack with a ten-foot branch. Not even for an irresistible alpine goddess.

She gave her new friend a look of soft, gold-eyed sympathy and gently drawled, "Aww, why not?" It was an honest question, one Whimsy had been trying to understand since she was the size of a porcupine. Perhaps it was the pull of coyote blood within her, whispering the appeal of freedom and independence into her soul. Or maybe it was something else altogether, something less magical and far more dismal.