Felltree Marsh catamite on a marble throne

My bad for the wait, babe! I was trying to come up with a reason for WB to leave the mountain range?!

Certain things remained unsettled in Warbone's life. His partner's expeditions troubled him, but beyond that he knew that he felt the urge too; it had driven him deep into complacency, out of fear that he might give in to it. His traveling had almost always come of necessity, so when the feeling to leave the vale weighed upon him like a sickness, he knew it was for a good reason.

He didn't know if he intended to make his way towards Marauder's Keep, but he did despite himself -- perhaps craving a glimpse of the willows he had no right to. He didn't even think about them, or his former pack until he could see it; a mirage in the distance that served to disillusion him, making him suddenly believe that he was in a dream. Wary of the fact that this could quickly turn nightmare, the brute took to the cold marshland, wondering why it wasn't the chill the jarred him from this unpleasant sleep.

Ahead he noticed a red fawn, and the closer he came to it, the more it evolved... until finally he was looking at a young russet wolf, and he stopped about twenty yards back, confusion clouding his scarred countenance as he realized too late that he hadn't meant to approach.