Kintla Flatlands The voices inside my head, I hate them.

Surprisingly, or maybe not, Mordecai learned that he didn't spend a lot of time in the plains. Of course, the forest did have it's advantages, but the Ostrega liked variety. He found a certain calmness in the plains that he often did not get in the forests… or so he thought anyway. What it more than likely boiled down to was that Mordecai liked the openness simply for the scant memory of home. Even if there hadn't been quite as much grass to be found. But the land of mesas and warm earth was long behind him, a memory so distant in fact that he barely recalled what the earth really had felt like.

“The forests around there are rather nice,” he commented, bobbling his head for a moment. He saw no harm in revealing that he knew where the dark-haired fellow came from. “I've been through them a time or two, anyway. That one is particularly overgrown.” And while he didn't mention it, Mordecai did have a passing thought about the offer that had been given to him. If that wolf was in fact from the pack to which he had received said offer, he wondered what else he would find there.