Neverwinter Forest strangle thorn

The golden creature was growing into getting over the nerves of throwing himself into the ranks of a new pack. While the man in charge was something of a straight-faced figure, it was not hard to respect him and his authority over the lands. Sawyer did feel a bit sheepish at having spent a majority of his time on the outskirts of the pack as opposed to in the forest itself. Once inside, the Crowfeather felt right at home. The dark twisting trees were a safe haven to him in times of change, and though it was lacking the boisterous group that had been his family, there was a certain peace to the quiet of the wood.
 
His ivory-tipped paws carried him quietly through the undergrowth and foliage, leading him in a twisting trail through the thickest part of the forest. Sawyer was completely immersed in his surroundings and had found himself getting lose in the beauty of it. He was a soft creature who had not faced many things in his young life, but he was trying to prove that he was also capable. Mama didn’t raise no whelp.