Great Bear Wilderness White Fur, Green Grass

Just as Cortland was beginning to take to the night, Phocion was starting to dwell during the days, especially if they were cooler, more cloudy. He didn't necessarily like it, but he had realized that the wolves of the Teekons were more active and comfortable while the sun was high--and if Argyros was to grow, he must adapt, for now. They could always bend to his will later.

He strode down from Silvertip today, a snowy blur across the rugged landscape of the wilderness. Squinting against the glare of sunlight, he followed the Whitefish down, down, until it split and meandered as a stream into the ruins of the Heartwood, then away from that foul place toward the thicket of the Bramblewood. It was then he saw another pale form, lying near the edge of the forest, looking quite cross.

With a wave of his tail, the white priest approached, giving the woman a chuff of greeting. He drew to a halt, eyes a warm cerulean, an easy smile coming to his muzzle as he looked down at her. "I do a lot of traveling in these parts, but I'm certain I've not seen your face before," Phocion remarked, tilting his head curiously. She looked a lot like him, but with black-tipped ears that clearly set her apart.