Cúán found himself wandering, too. The snow and cold still rankled him, but like any man of the Red Canyon, he did not allow it to cow him. He was careful, yes, but not afraid. After a sevenday—perhaps more—passed by, he came to understand it more. In some ways it was like sand, only its treachery differed. In better conditions, he might take the risk of attempting the journey alone.

He glanced up at the overcast sky and frowned. If only he could see the stars!

Without their guiding light, he would be stranded in the gloom. Instead he took to wandering around the Rise, keeping close enough to the druids that his nose could hide him back to their earthy, herbal dens if need be. As he walked, he came upon a set of fresh tracks. Another wolf—but not one of the druids, though traces of their scent lingered. Another of the desert delegation?

Cúán quickened his pace, and soon the stranger came into view. He called out: Hello!