Whitefish River between two points

“I can respect that,” Mordecai joined in when Dante mentioned not wanting to pick fights with the packs. He felt the same way. It was easier to try and make peace with them than squabble over food or passage. For the most part, the tawny Ostrega had tried to give any pack a wide berth in which he expected no trouble. And so far, he hadn't encountered any trouble yet. Hopefully it would stay that way and if it didn't, then Mordecai was confident it would be no fault of his own.

But in regards to the companion that Dante had become separated from, Mordecai could only sympathize. He had traveled alone largely, only teaming up with another or any number of others to survive on an as needed basis. It had never been hard for him to find ways to socialize on his own, as there had never been a shortage of equal-minded wayfarer like himself. “I'm sure your friend will turn up. There's a lot of ground out there to cover.” It was a small token of console. He didn't dwell on it long. “Were most of the packs near the coast, or inland further?” Maybe Dante's companion had sought refuge in one of them, he thought.