Dragoncrest Cliffs hell, heal

It was good to be somewhere he could consider home. Finally, they could rest easy, eat their fill, and regain their strength. Though he had certainly been weary, Melchior's optimism had never once faltered. He had faith in his kin, faith that they would find their Heda once more. Sure enough, they had, and he could start to practice using the word home once again.

Perhaps unlike Arlo, he had promptly thrown himself into the pack life, meeting his clan mates and making himself useful. Recently he had taken to doing rounds along the borders, and helping Portia gather plants. All of that was fine and dandy, but it did not ease his sense of restlessness. He had been on the road too long to remember how to settle down.

Eager to seek out familiarity, he tracked down Arlo, who was haunting the area adjacent to the lakeside, seemingly without intent. Melchior loped lazily to greet him, offering a friendly wuff, and a wave of his dark tipped tail. "Have you settled in?" He queried as he approached, boyish grin sprawled lazily across his face. Rounding on him, the yearling attempted to bump his left shoulder against Arlo's right shoulder. "I hope I haven't forgotten any training! It's been a long time since we had the opportunity to do anything more than survive."