Lost Creek Hollow don't you weep and don't you worry

As soon as the words had left him he had no true indication of what to expect from her. Someone to call their own had long been on her list of desires and surely they had achieved that. But it was another beast entirely to consider the abrupt possibility that there and then, it wasn't meant to be. Mordecai had never been one to hold an attachment to a place, though he was fond of the woodland that encompassed their home and because of that, he fully expected anger on her end. Cobbled together words of cutout letters stamping down on the fact that they had worked so hard to achieve their own territory, to maintain it and let it flourish.

Instead what he ended up with was a soft affirmation that perhaps it was better off that they depart, and the only resignation he found in there was her agreeing sans anger. His ears pulled back to drape against his skull; he reached out to comfort her with a soft nudge.

"There are other worlds than these," he offered. "We can always try again." While mistakes couldn't be changed, he knew that there were always opportunities that lied out in the open. It had always been that way, no matter how bad things were. "There are places we can go, if not for refuge then to find what we need to keep our family safe." And family, that was what he deemed far more important than some territory to lay claim to, or some faith-based fealty to a set of gods.