"You should have seen Garahel when he was a pup just learning to run, it was even worse then." The mabari tries to look innocent after inhaling that piece of jerky, but it's not like Ciri hasn't seen enough of his antics to knoe his true (goofy, unless in combat) nature by now. Satisfied that the horse is finally going to leave Ciri alone for a bit, she rubs the mabari's head, rolling her eyes when he perks up and barks at mention of playing fetch.

"You know that's not going to happen right now. But be a good boy and let us set up the tent and we'll treat you later. I promise." And she's always good on her word. Satifisfied at least for the time being, the mabari plops down and rolls around on the cool grass, enjoying the feel of it. Moving over to help Ciri with the tent supplies, she glances over and smiles. "I won't miss the sand, either. Between that and the blasted heat, it was too much. The invigorating mountain air will be a nice change."

'Invigorating' will change to 'harsh and face-numbing' in due time, but that's no reason not to enjoy what they have now. And she's just as glad to be away from the Western Approach, regardless. Scout Harding had a point; the place just felt wrong.