Whitebark Stream Travel light, let the sun eclipse you.

Artyom took a moment to ponder over his little son's request, and looked out toward the downpour. The grim, ashen sky showed to sign of dissipating anytime soon, though he hoped it would clear through the night to come. "Perhaps," he answered, unwilling to make promises.

Earthen gaze lopoked down at the pup again, knowing this was not the vow he hoped to hear and was likely be disappointed. "If you are especially good tonight, maybe Мать Знатура will stop the rain long enough so that we can play outside when morning comes," the Alpha elaborated with a hopeful smile, one of quiet encouragement.