Fox's Glade Lost our gravity, now we're weightless

Leaving the territory wasn't on Burr's list of things to do for the day, but somehow he ended up beyond the boundaries in the sunny late afternoon. Perhaps it was his aversion to the pack's adults since his encounter with Murdock, or perhaps he was following the thinning trail of his missing brother without consciously realizing it. Whatever the case, the greyscale youth found himself in a scenic glade with just the burbling of the stream to keep him company, well outside of Easthollow's reaches.

When he realized that he was no longer surrounded by the constant smells of his pack mates, Burr paused and pressed his side against one of the stolid boulders littered about the place. He pricked his ears cautiously and swivelled his head in a slow arc, then rolled the tension from his shoulders and folded himself into a sit with a soft sigh. Burr spared a few moments to toss his muzzle back over his left shoulder and preen a patch of unruly fur there, then set about examining his surroundings. It was a pretty place, quiet, and the newness of it was enough to set the pup's tail wagging. Within moments his guard was dropped and he rubbed his cheek against the boulder's side, relieving an itch that he'd previously ignored.