Silvertip Mountain In the shadow of the mountain

This land was gorgeous, though it must be even more so when it wasn't so bare. On his journey, Phocion had heard tales of insects, millions of them, ravaging the wilds, destroying plant matter and leaving the green-eaters to starve. He had stayed on the coast through his journey north, and was just now turning inland. Besides the marvelous scenery surrounding the silvery mountain ahead, he had gotten away from that ever-pervasive, horrendous fishy smell beside the ocean. Phocion wrinkled his nose in memory of the stench.

He was humming a song under his breath as he went along, a bawdy tune taught to him by a few of the loners he had camped with along the sea. He smiled in memory. Those salty mercenaries, though fierce in both appearance and nature, made great friends and companions. He would miss them, and would always envy their carefree existence, but Phocion knew it was time to grow up and commit. Wolves were, seemingly by design, social creatures. It was time for him to join a proper pack. Only then would he have the chance to grow and thrive.

So when heavy scent markings near the edge of the mountain brought him to a sudden halt, he was pleased. He took in the mixed aromas, and ascertained the presence of just a few adult wolves, perhaps some pups in the mix as well. The mountainside was formidable; Phocion knew these were likely hardy animals that lived here. Perfect. No room in this world for weaklings.

"Let's see what I find here," Phocion said with a wry chuckle, and gave a long, tenor howl of greeting, falling silent as the sound echoed through the night air and awaiting his entrance interview, if he were indeed granted one.