Sometimes having extra toes was disadvantageous. Like when one's paws ached from walking so far. They've been traveling for weeks, somewhat aimlessly, eating and drinking and resting as the need arose. Odhgrimm has not dallied long in any place just yet, restlessly leading Uzma onward, searching for something but not yet finding it. He thinks, half sarcastic, that he'll know it when he sees it. Soon they will have a new home.

There's rain on the wind, he can smell it. Can see it in the low, dark clouds that are slowly obscuring the afternoon sun. Usually, it wouldn't bother him to get a little wet, but the nights have been frigid lately. And while they're both accustomed to and well-equipped enough to withstand the low temperatures, he knows they both will be more comfortable if they avoid that fate. There's no gain in adding to their aches.

{"Uzma,"} he rumbles, reaching to touch his white lips to her supple hip. Odhgrimm prefers her to walk in front of him, if only just a little. It was safer for her that way, and afforded him a wonderful view. {"We will find shelter for the storm,"} he tells her. They're in a wooded area, neither sparse or crowded, where the trees are thicker around than he is long (minus the tail). In one direction there's grassland, and in the other a ridge of cliffs. Surely they'll find a space to fit the two of them.