Thorin keeps to no faction and works The Yard as a Husky who is ice clear and a little theatrical, with tail that curls into a question mark. At sunset Thorin sits by the Endless Track and hums to an old human photo of a smiling dog and human until the wind returns the favor. On busy market days Thorin carries a piece of stitched fabric tooth like a small flag, and stallkeepers nod as it passes. Thorin may not know the truth of the old world, but that never stops a good theory from becoming lunch talk.