Hoshor Plains stick your fingers up your partner's nose

He might have considered the pack in the forest near the shore, but it was near the shore. Too near the shore. He was a corsair, and there was as much salt water in his veins as there was blood, but Dragon had been bred and raised in lean times in already food-spare places. The sea provided, but in winter, the winds and storms were often too harsh to bear. So his folks had taken to moving inland for the season, and he, knowing nothing else, continued that practice here on his own. Once he got around the other crew's ship, he met up with another river, and followed it southeast. That was their practice also - to keep near water as much as possible, even if it was fresh. Water was life; it was the blood of the land.

To his west, more forest, to the east, an expanse of flatlands and a long reaching mountain range. Dragon wiggled his ears as he looked upon their tall peaks. Hah, some of those peaks would make quite the crow's nest! Though up was not his direction of choice, mountains often meant valleys, and valleys were cute, like the coves of the inland - sheltered, protected. It was difficult to tell if that collection of peaks had some little paradise in between them but, eh, probably worth a look, so thought Dragon.

So he turned northeast, leaving the river behind for now. It was mid afternoon, the sun was high, and the day surprisingly warm. Thus, his swaggering gait was leisurely, and he paused only to sniff the air here and there.