Honeyed Pasture Chasing the wind

Again the younger had run, and Alastor simply watched as he’d done so. To engage in a game of chase was not currently on his mind, and so he’d waited for his companion to come to a stop. The question posed was answered, towards which the foreigner nodded. His expression grew thoughtful, his options and words both being considered before his voice could be found. Zoratto was born to run across the plains, which made the idea of confining him to a mountain seem wrong. Yet, what other options did they have? He could not return to Silvertip, he would not put them through that. There was, however, another pack that he’d promised to consider joining. To go to them—to his friend—seemed practical, but could he do it? Could he put his little group of travelers through that?

Jaws parted, but words hadn’t come out right away. It’d taken him a few tries before his voice had been found, asking, “Would you leave if I took us to another mountain?” He shifted slightly, glancing away from his companion for a second or two. “Do you think you could live on one?” Winter was approaching, and so they needed a place to stay. Aesop had assured him that he’d put in a good word for the Greek, and so he was hopeful that the same could be done for the other two, should Alastor not be left to continue the journey alone.