Rising Sun Valley Into the Depths of Our Illusion

The white wolf greeted Cicero by name, which surprised Cicero, though he did not show it. He supposed it must be someone who had known his mother, or had seen him when he was young. Cicero remembered playing with many wolves, some of which were white, in his youth. However, the wolf did not presently smell of Blackfeather Woods, so he must have left at some point. "Who is white wolf?" Cicero asked, not eager to play games, least of all a game of memory he could not possibly win in light of not remembering much of his early youth.

Cicero nodded when the white wolf told him that he was far away from home. "Exploring. Cicero likes being alone, sometimes. Cicero has a lot to think about, and likes to learn the lay of new lands." Not that he would share it with practically a stranger, of course. Cicero glanced around at the peaceful surroundings and said, "This is peaceful. Cicero wonders why pack left it." There were signs that a pack had once lived here, and it had captivated Cicero's curiosity that they'd left when the territory itself seemed to be in decent enough state, not to mention picturesque and beautiful. He imagined it a sort of territory many wolves (albeit not many that lived in Blackfeather) would like.