Lost Creek Hollow Me, Myself and I

They had entered into the woodland without fanfare.  And it had been much of what Mordecai's constructed imagination predicted it to be; Harlyn's description of the place was more or less spot on.  With some sort of rudimentary borders up, they had begun the legwork in claiming the territory for themselves.  Even that had gone unquestionably without a hitch, though he couldn't have suggested where the doubt would have come along.  Mordecai anticipated some sort of difficulty, and maybe that merely transpired from memories of how hard it had been to hold a borderline.  Granted, his experiences with such a thing came in one of two forms, takeover or support.  This was really neither of those, this was saying this is mine.

And so as he continued along those forming borders, Mordecai let his mind wander a bit.  He did not reminisce over the past, good or bad, but instead considered what would need done over the next few weeks.  With the warmth of the late summer, he found it hard to ascertain just where they were in the season.  He wasn't much of a reader into such things and while he made a mental note to pick Harlyn's brain about it, a howl rose up through the forestry behind him.  He turned and paused to listen to it, and then set off from whence he came.

As Mordecai arrived on the scene, he found Luke already in the process of greeting them. Or rather, it was more like Luke had already greeted them since Mordecai was literally walking in on the response. What Wynter had to say intrigued him as he pulled up near to the blue-nosed Luke, and he saw past her as though he would spy out followers to her own cause. He saw nothing, but did not discard the consideration that it may have existed. Still, given that she seemed to be on a mission of her own, Mordecai could not help but hold his silence for a note longer — it didn't quite seem his turn to talk yet.