Curls had been all over southern Boreas. While he'd been born farther to the east in a place called The Rock Garden, he had left home as a yearling to find his own path in life, and as much as he'd loved the boulder scattered field and the sound of waves crashing along the shore of the beach farther up, he'd known for a long time that his path was far from his birthplace. As much as he loved his family- and he loved them dearly, seven was a big litter- ridiculously big- and despite his parents best efforts and his siblings always being there, Curls had always felt a bit overlooked. It was nothing he blamed them for! After all, they had done their best and raised them well, he just... knew he couldn't really be happy there. And so he'd gone Soth toward the deltas and had spent the last year exploring new lands and meeting new people..He'd learned a lot about himself on the way, too, and he liked to think he'd grown a lot from when he'd first left The Rock Garden in search of himself.

Out of all the places in southern boreas he's come to love though, the plains was his favorite. So much life and beauty, it offered something to him he couldn't wuite name, but there was certainly contentment in watching the pronghorns graze as the sun rose in the morning, something thrilling about chasing a jackrabbit over the flatlands. And he wasn't the only one who appreciated what the place had to offer, which meant it was prime real estate for bumping into other loners or travelling pack wolves. For Curls, crossing paths with a stranger was one of his favorite things- a sketchy statement at surface level- but it was all innocent fun. The brown wolf was a bit of a social butterfly, and while he was happier than he'd ever been back home -sorry mom and dad- he often found himself longing for a friend to spend his time with, someone voice other than his own that could break the silence.

Today the long-legged wolf found himself by the stream, throat parched from the warmth of the day. There was little shade in the prairie, but it was a price he was more than willing to pay, especially when the shallow streams offered a way to cool down at any tme.

The snow was really doing a number on poor Artisan's overworked paws, though it was hard for the colorful man to convince himself that the races weren't worth a little pain. Already he could feel his endurance building as he over-practiced his new favorite hobby again and again. Better yet, a good fun race seemed to bring out a good amount of friendly strangers with whom he could make new friends and add extra beads to his memento bracelets. So far his wrists were uncomfortably bare since his accessory collection had been stolen, but he had plans to build it back up between pirate raids and thrilling races.   A thin layer of snow blanketed the prairie here, too, though it seemed the cold was milder in the south and west then it was elsewhere. The snowbanks did not pile as high here as they did in the east, and through the dusting he could see what remained of plentiful foliage. Pawprints and hoofprints packed down the snow nearly everywhere he could see, and from his casual inspection the ground seemed well enough that perhaps this place too, might be able to function as a race track. Another wolf roamed nearby, and Artisan had never been the shy type. He strolled on up alongside the stranger, giving him a warm smile and a friendly wag of the tail. "Hey there buddy, my name's Artisan. Wanna race? I've found I'm quite addicted to it. "Talk" "Listen" Think

Curls had been lapping up the ice-cold water of the stream when the sound of pawsteps in the snow caught his attention. He lifted his head to be met with the sight of another wolf- one impressively large and with a coat that reminded him of the sun rising over the snowy mountains at dawn. He was quick to take note of their smile and wagging tail, the outwardly friendly demeanor being all the convidence he really needed for him to mimic the peace-offering laid up before him.

Finally, someone to talk to!

They introduced themselves as Artisan, and were quick to invite the brown wolf to a race. In all honesty he didn't think he'd measure up much to a male of this size, but who was he to disrupt the others fun? Besides, it was better than standing around and doing nothing, like he currently was.

"Sure, that sounds pretty fun actually!" he agreed, glancing out over the prairie. "Where did you want to race to?"

A fair question, all things considered. The prairie would be a decent spot for it despite the snow, mainly because the flatland never seemed to get too much of the stuff. A couple harmless inches settled above the grass, hardly enough to stomp out the foliage, which still peaked through in clumps here and there. "Oh, you can call me Curls, by the way. It's nice to meet you." he added quickly, offering the stranger a warm smile despite them being a, well, stranger. He wasn't about to screw himself out of some fun because he was paranoid.

Thankfully the stranger seemed the friendly type - or perhaps Artisan just wasn't quite good at distinguishing when another wolf was uncomfortable and paranoid around strangers - and accepted his offer rather easily. "Great! It's a pleasure to meet you too, Curls." The colorful man exclaimed, paws tapping happily in the snow-touched grass. The question was brought to where they'd run and race to, and Artisan peered out across the prairie with a scrutinizing gaze. There were few distinguishable differences to the plain, especially when snow coated the plentiful foliage and hid the bright distinguishing colors. "Hmm." He mused. "We could race toward those boulders over there, and then turn around and come back, and first to touch the creek wins?" It was much easier to envision race tracks on territories that had a little more.. umph to them, but he couldn't fault the prairie for it's lifelessness just because winter had driven away the prey animals. "Talk" "Listen" Think