The sun had long since set overhead and had left the lands to cool in the crisp night air. It would do the land well not to feel the scorch for such a duration; it had already suffered so much. There was always a length of time that seemed to be ruled by devastation. A time when distress and hardship were the only consistent factors in what was played by the universe. It was not to be understood, and Sawyer had never anticipated that he would be able to wrap his mind around the workings of the land and why it was that it could so viciously ravage a land of life.
 
His long pale legs carried him across the wet ground. The rains had done well to drench the lands in water so that the foliage could begin to heal. Already there were signs of greenery returning to the branches on the trees. It meant that there was a chance the summer would not be as wicked as their spring had been. He had been cautious about entering the Teekon Wilds. He was a smart creature, but his breath was caught by the idea of omens. To stumble on a ravaged land in the heat of finding himself was certainly not a sign of chance for the gold-cloaked beast.
 
There was potential, however. He could see it in his surroundings as he sought a peaceful place to bed for the evening. He would have turned his attention away from the marshy glen had it not been for a curious bobbing light and caught his eye. Turning his body towards it, he noted the flicker once more before it disappeared behind the trunk of a tree. Curiously, Sawyer allowed himself to trail carefully behind it.
 

The flickering light of the firefly was bewitching to the golden-clad male. His eyes followed the steady bob of the insect’s body as it seemed to drift about. As far as it could be seen, there didn’t seem to be much of a path for the wayward light to shine. The pearly legs of the loner trailed after it as long as he felt comfort in doing so. He had no path himself, but Sawyer was not opposed to acts of good fortune or moments of sheer luck; he’d seen enough of that in his time. And if the firefly was merely struck by a moment of serendipitous flight, the golden wolf still had nowhere that he was destined to be. He had spent enough nights up with the stars and the churning winds; he would be welcome to more.
 
Following the creature for some ways, it took the Crowfeather boy a moment to realize the sounds of twigs snapping and paws thudding against the earth. Swiveling his ears to determine the direction of the sound, his champagne-colored gaze locked with an inky figure slinking desperately in Sawyer’s direction. Mildly taken aback at the sight of the other wolf, he staggered a few steps to his rear and frowned. Once the shadowy stranger had closed their distance and parted his mouth with good intentions spilling out, the firefly watcher felt the muscles in his body ease.
 
“Evenin’,” he drawled to the other wolf with a bob of his skull. “You asked for my name, didn’t you, partner? I’m Sawyer,” he then introduced with a half-smile on his handsome features. This dark stranger did not carry the scent of another pack on him; there was no reason for Sawyer to worry about having wandered just a little too far in the wrong direction.