Silver Moraine berkanan; sustenance

His only goal for weeks— months, perhaps— had been to return to the place that called to his blood. He couldn't explain why; the chances of his family being there were slim to none, and part of him knew that they had long since forgotten him. Some small, superstitious part of him still wished to see his birthplace before he died. But dying, of course, was not on his agenda any time soon. He supposed he was close enough to the coast, now, that he could delay his journey for a time.

Plus, food.

Your home, Kaylan stated, by way of clarification. It certainly wasn't the white beast's home, for he had none. He decided not to argue the semantics of "let me feed you," (he could take care of himself; perhaps not well, but he could manage) and instead shrugged again. Okay.