Moonsong Glacier I'll never forget my mother's face; that was real

Movement down below startled him out of his thoughts, and he stood, fur bristling warily as he searched for the source of the motion. He relaxed a little as he took in the newcomer's scent, noticing it was a female, and alone, with no smell of a pack on her. Sure enough, the reddish-colored woman came into sight, long legs carrying her up the glacier. Phocion nodded stiffly, attempting to balance friendliness with wariness.

"Good evening." Her question as to what was wrong rubbed him the wrong way; what right did she have to inquire into his private thoughts? Then he resisted a chuckle at his own hypocrisy--he was just as forward as this female, he just didn't like it as much when he was on the receiving end of prying questions. He allowed a small smile to creep onto his face in response. "It's a long story. I'm sure you wouldn't want to sit through it," he said succinctly.

He did have a question for her, however. A couple, actually. Despite not being affiliated with any pack--he was 98 percent sure about that--she was a little too close to Silvertip for comfort. He was becoming awfully protective, almost savagely so, of his new mountain home.

"Who are you?" Phocion asked, keeping his tone light while still maintaining an edge that demanded an answer. "What brings you to the glacier?" The pair of queries had two benefits; one, to figure out who she was, and two, to draw attention away from his own emotional breakdown. This female had probably seen him weeping up here, and he hated to know that someone else had bore witness to his moment of weakness.