Duck Lake weeping willow

Fox had little in the way of tradition. Perhaps the only tradition she had followed was leaving home when she felt she was ready. That was her rite of passage, and she had done it without hesitation. She did not miss her family, who was surely off somewhere doing whatever. In fact, she did not think of them at all. The things that mattered to her now were in Swiftcurrent, and she saw no need to think of things that were far away or in the past. For whatever reason, though, Bjorn's place of birth had some messed-up ideas on how to remember big events. By slashing the crap out of one another. But there was one part that he said that piqued her interest. He had mentioned a throne, which she assumed meant that he held some sort of honorable rank somewhere.

“That must mean I’m in the latter category, hah!” she replied. “But uh… throne, huh? Does that mean you lord over some folks around here?” Fox, of course, had her own herd to attend to. They were less of a herd and more of a band of huge warrior-types, though. How she had managed to attract that type, she would never understand. Maybe they all had some kind of complex that made them seek out smaller leaders.