Firefly Glen a minty fresh death breath

The Glen wolf urged her to follow, and Lane was quick to comply. There had been some sort of reaction to the mention of Toad Amelia-- some small shift of emotion behind the man's eyes-- but Lane couldn't quite put her paw on exactly what that reaction was. Speaking Toad's name had gotten Lane off the border pretty quickly, that was for certain. It was either that, or Antares was just cold. That seemed plausible, too. 

Conditions didn't exactly favor communication at the moment, and Lane was provided only with the vague instruction to prove herself. She could do that. There were no weird rules or warnings right off the bat, that was a good sign. Here's to hoping Firefly Glen was just a nice, normal bunch of wolves, since Lane was going to have to be hunkered down here for God knows how long.

A particularly nasty gust blasted the pair from the front, and Lane ducked her head. She growled her agreement with the Firefly Glen man. It was awful. Lane had been battling this weather for weeks now, every day hoping that this was the day she would wake up to clear skies. 

The Glen wolves finally made it across the treeline. I wasn't exactly warm-- not by a long shot-- but at least with the treecover it was calm enough to hold a short conversation. 

"Anything I need to know?" she asked, shaking the snow off of her pelt. If there was a pressing medical need that Antares could identify for her, she would focus her attention there first. "Just the gist is fine. I can find Holland later and get the details from him." A gust of wind battered the trees, tugging insistently at Lane's fur.