Jonas

"I'm Jonas. I guess you could say I'm on a diplomatic exchange from up north." He pauses, noticing something in the air. Not only can he not hear a birdsong, but he hardly hear a thing at all, save for the whistling of the wind. The silence is by no means disconcerting, he is used to nothing but the wind over the frozen tundras. But here, it seems odd, out of place. "Hey, when did you last hear a bird, or a even cricket since we've been travelling?"