The lack of growing fruit made the brambles seem sinister as they sat in the baking sun, daunting as ever. Their sharp thorns had already torn through his handsome golden fur and clung to the skin beneath, leaving him torn and cut in areas he had not been before. Though Sawyer found that the area reminded him somewhat of the Wild Wood of home. The trees had been thick and twisted; overhead they stood so full that it would block the sun on even the fiercest summer days. The undergrowth was a mixture of soft bushes and sharp twisting thorns. Weasels and voles thrived in the area and always provided a quick meal for the wolves who called the Wood their habitat.
 
Working his way through a particularly rough patch of brambles, the golden male shouldered the tangle aside and felt the sharp sting of the thorn against his ribs. Wincing a bit, he managed to find himself at the very edge of the wicked nettles and in a stretch that would be easier to travel. Breathing heavily, Sawyer turned his gaze back on the direction he had come and realized that he could not return that way again.

A soft noise sounded the presence of another wolf. Sawyer turned his head in the direction of the creature who was occupying the same stretch of land as the southern boy. Flicking his tail upwards to demonstrate that he was friendly enough, the golden beast took a step or two towards the inky figure. Their intent was the same; searching for food. While Sawyer had not really been that intent on finding something, he did take a moment to note the thin frame of the other wolf. Times were tough in those parts, that was certain. The flaxen-eyed male frowned sympathetically towards the stranger.
 
“If you were lookin’ for somethin’ to eat in those brambles there… ‘m afraid you won’t have much luck, friend,” he remarked. The sweet twang of his accent seemed to drift through the air effortlessly. While it was a rather obvious remark that he was making, Sawyer thought it wise to warn the other wolf instead of having him waste energy and time in search of prey that wasn’t there.

Sawyer’s words were met with a heavy sigh and a longing glance of disappointment. It was to be expected under such conditions. The golden man had never known a hardship like this one. He had lived his life well-loved and looked after by a devoted pack tucked away in the deep dark of the woods. It thrived, and because of that so did those who called it home. Since his arrival in the Teekon Wilds, he could not help but have an ache in his heart for the forest that he had called home.
 
The thanks from the dark wolf did not go unnoticed. Sawyer nodded his head politely and once it was said and done, his ears swiveled forward to meet the rest of the stranger’s words. Dash he repeated in his head, drawing his flaxen gaze over the frame of the dark wolf. “Pleasure, Dash… pleasure,” he drawled with a smile. “I’m Sawyer. Not from ‘round these parts. Moonspear, you say? That nearby?” he then continued with peaked interest. If the golden boy was to survive in the famine-ridden lands, he would need to seek out a pack.

The Crowfeather wolf did not see much for altercation with a stranger in the heat of a famine. It was far more trouble than it would have been worth for either one of them. He did not know how those who had survived there were lasting. As his pale eyes roamed Dash’s figure with a burning curiosity, he noted the thin features and the jutting bones. Still, the inky wolf stood and hunted and communicated without lashing out in a vicious attempt to feed. Sawyer’s eyes followed the point of the dark wolf’s muzzle in the direction of a mountain that sat not too far away. It loomed over its surroundings with a dignity that could not have been beat. It was surely a beautiful place to call home.
 
A question then slipped past the other’s mouth and caught the swivel of Sawyer’s ear. He turned his attention away from Moonspear and fixated his eyes on his present company. “Just thought it best that I set out on my own… try n’ make a name for m’self. Got a big family back home and after a while you start itchin’ for greener pastures,” he answered carefully. “Though I ‘spose your pastures aren’t all that green,” he then added with small smirk.

 
The great golden male listened intently as Dash recalled the locusts and their attack on the Teekon Wilds. His brows were knitted tightly across his forehead and he seemed deeply troubled that such an attack would fall across an entire expanse of land in such a way. Sawyer had never encountered troubles of the like in the Wild Wood. He did not care to share this information with his present company, though. It did no good to speak of his great fortune when compared to the bout of bad luck they had seemed to receive. “How long ago did they come flyin’ through here?” he asked curiously. He’d seen the growth of trees and plants return within a month and wished he could share the same information with the dark-furred Moonspear wolf.
 
“It might seem dismal, but I’ve always been one for a challenge,” Sawyer then added with a quick flash of his teeth in a wolfish grin. He had been tested in different ways growing up, and while his experience was limited to trials of the mind and soul, he was willing to try himself against those of the body. It had been his intention to start new and he had never been one to quit.
 

The dark-furred Dash seemed to have to contemplate the timespan that it had taken for the locusts to come and ravage the land around him. He stated that he wasn’t around when they’d actually flown through, which meant that he wouldn’t have an accurate frame to judge. Yet, he managed a short guess that would seem accurate based on the short buds of green that were forming on the trees again. “I’d say a month would be about right. You’ll be seein’ green again soon, I’m sure,” Sawyer chirped with a nod of his head and a curling smile on his inky lips.
 
When Dash remarked on Sawyer’s attitude, he offered a bashful lowering of his skull towards the earth and his smile faded a bit. Taking compliments was not always the easiest for the traveling southerner. Still, for a stranger to recognize a momentary strength was uplifting. “I am lookin’ for a pack. Hopefully in this neck of the woods somewhere. Are you Moonspear wolves takin’ in new blood?” he then asked with a curious tilt of his brow.  
 

In regards to the question that had been presented, Dash spoke with as much knowledge of their open ranks as he could. Sawyer listened intently while the dark-furred wolf answered his inquiry. When he had concluded, the golden wolf frowned thoughtfully and wondered if he was capable of seeking out a home on the mountain ground. The thought sent a shiver down his spine and he found himself both fearful of the idea and drawn to it. Whether or not he decided to seek acceptance into the ranks of Moonspear, he was certain that he would travel that way to visit the inky male.
 
Realizing that he had taken quite a bit of the other wolf’s time, Sawyer looked to him with a small sigh and then glanced along the path he had intended to take. “Well, Dash… I do think I ought to move along and not take up much more of your good time. I do appreciate all the chit chat, friend. I’ll come and visit you on the mountainside?” he prompted with a flashing smile and a wag of his tail. After bidding the kind stranger farewell, the long-legged Sawyer set out on his own path once more and planned a moment in the future to seek out the kindly Dash.