No Poetry but the Stars

"Hurt?" Rags laughed awkwardly. "Ah, no. This is old nerve damage. I can't help how I walk," she ducked her head, a bit embarrassed. It was clear the blue-grey wolf hadn't meant anything by the question - in fact, it seemed like he was concerned - but Rags was used to ire and awkward special treatment. Clearly she was well enough to have gotten this far north, right? The spotted female settled back slowly on her haunches, her front paws curling in towards each other, pigeon-toed.

"What are you doing here? This is the furthest north you can get, right?" she asked, her eye glittering with excitement. The craggy peak jutted out over the ocean, fixed with some kind of tall structure at the end. In the distance, she could hear the ocean crash against the rocks. It was a fantastic vista - almost mythical in its scope. Although she was cold and tired, it felt good to travel on her own again.