Northstar Vale raisin

she's not sure how long it's been now, only that it must be winter. the snow is just as her mother had told her, white and cold and melting at her touch. her fascination with it evaporated quickly, however, with much more pressing matters demanding her attention. she knows enough to sustain herself with the odd bit of carrion, or the rarer still rodent or bird, but it's the way back to blackfeather is her priority now. 

and yet, she does not know which of the steep edges that surround the vale to scale. it had seemed so clear when she'd first descended, but rock has an awful habit of all looking alike. tongue slips over her lips as she considers, for the umpteenth time that day, the edges of the vale. the sky is still overcast, snow falling lightly and obscuring the sun entirely. mo huffs, entranced for a moment by her breath caught in the air, and continues on her aimless path.

Infection had crept its way into the open wound on his chest, leaving him with an unsightly mix of yellowish puss and swollen tissue. That alone had left him feeling half drained of all energy, so when illness decided to follow suit and sink it's ugly fangs into his flesh, he felt as if a boulder had struck him half dead.

And so due to his ailments, Dagwood had primarily been resting in whatever nook or cranny he could find, neither eating nor drinking, only nibbling on snow when he felt up to the task. He knew if his mother were here she'd scold him for not taking better care of himself, a thought that ultimately pushed him to rise from the tree he'd been sleeping under and wander off in search of water.

What he found however was the scent of some unknown wayfarer and, knowing he couldn't very well ignore the presence of a stranger in the midst of their home, set off after their trail...slowly.

Whoever it was would likely hear him coming from a mile away, for coughs erupted from his mouth in uncontrollable fits that left him gasping for air and feeling as if he was about to topple over from exhaustion. But still he pressed on, eventually spotting the vague silhouette of the earthly hued girl. A few paces closer and he called out feverishly, "excus-", only to be interrupted by another violent series of coughs.

Once more then.

"Excuse me!"

she doesn't get much further before leaning back on her haunches, blinking into the soft snowfall. it's getting harder to move for long, and exhaustion takes hold almost like a disease. she knows she can't still for long; doing so would make stopping to sleep all too tempting. before she can make the decision to move further along, a bout of coughing has her twist, concern penciled across her features. 

she moves toward him, surging onto her feet and forward. "are you alright?" she pauses what she thinks is a polite distance away, flattened ears displaying her uncertainty, flickering gaze her concern.

"I've been better" he half jokingly lets out as he sucks in a strained breath, pale green eyes drawing upward to better take in the earthly girl's features. She was young, younger than him even. And apparently, or at least according to the absence of deep-rooted scents along her fur, was alone.

"I'm Dagwood" he greeted with a sniffle, tail swaying behind him at a rhythmic beat as he left a moment open for her to introduce herself should she wish to do so. And then he, suddenly remembering why he'd been tracking her down in the first place, leaned forward to abruptly ask "what brings you to the vale?"