Silvertip Mountain I'm as real as you are

He had spent a lot of time alone lately. Ever since Zaria died, and Steady had asked the pack to cannibalize her, Phocion had found himself withdrawn from pack matters. There had been so much death lately--and it all brought him back to his mother's demise, though the memory receded further into the past with each day. The normally-cheery white wolf was a shadow of his usual self.

So, then, at the sound of a mournful cry, Phocion reacted slowly yet steadily, trotting towards the call, his footfalls soft against the ground. The howl came from the glass cave, a place of reflection and solace for many a Silvertip wolf at any given time. He stepped into the cavern and found there Grayday, a wolf he had seen but not yet formally met.

Giving the gray male his space yet unable to keep quiet--there was some trace of his nosy personality remaining, after all--Phocion opened his mouth to speak. "Grayday. What's troubling you tonight?"