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Though he HAD returned in search of him, he could not be assed to listen at this very moment. In the arctic, if you were cold and wet, you were as good as dead. And now that he was out of the water, the clock was ticking. Mojave’s fur was longer than his, but he did not have the comfort of the density of Rancor’s own. And so, the journey to the fire was filled with silence on his end.

Ears pulled back as the taller wolf began to talk them off loudly, wibble-wobbling his head from one side to the other to shake that voice far and out. Yeah, yeah. Let’s get to the fire first, okay? A pointed glance to the side and he shivered violently as the air around them warmed. Snow turned to slush against his body, heated by the mysterious light ahead.

His face was tingly. Looking around with discomfort, he tried to spot if there was sky-spittle falling on him from somewhere he did not see. But no, unfortunately. This must have been from the drying salt on his snout.

Upon finally reaching their destination atop the icy cliff, Rancor looked behind himself with narrowed eyes. Did I.. Did you see me jump out of the water? I feel like we’re awfully high up for a beach. It wasn’t possible, right? But he could not see the water at the end of the horizon from where he stood. There was no part of Blizzardclan territory that was this elevated. Pulling back his lips into a grimace, he swallowed air to pop his ears.

Laying down by the crackling rosy flames, the man turned back to Mojave at last with drooping shoulders. Letting his hind legs kick back, he was conscious to lay in a manner that flattened his stomach. Sighing at the now inevitable task of conversation, he looked up. So- what was it? That you were saying?