Lone Star Mountain somewhere there's a party

Truthfully, Talion didn't know what he was looking for. He was always searching for it, whatever it was, hoping that he would simply know when he found it. Whether that be a place to belong, a loyal companion, a pack to aid him through the cold season or parts of himself, the young Roux-Abrhen had no idea. "Winging it" had always been his forte even during his time at Astarte Strand, even though it rarely worked in his favour.

Dawn began listing local groups, though she was vague in the details. The boy supposed she might no little of them because they were of no interest to her, and wondered if they all lived in harmony despite their proximity. His birth pack had bickered constantly with the wolves nearby, he recalled, over everything from hunting grounds to differing beliefs and opinions. He doubted very much that the new Siren Queen would have strived to settle the differences with the neighbours, and considered the strong possibility that she would have escalated them.

"Thanks," Talion said, warmth in his tone, "I'll check some of those out." He probably never would, considering his active avoidance of pack territory during his short time in the Teekon. The possibility of rejection and his overwhelming pessimism on the matter was what prevented him even attempting to seek a place among already established ranks. "What takes you to Easthollow?" Talion asked for curiosity's sake, ears thrust back warily as soon as the words parted his mouth, and quickly tacked on: "if you don't mind me asking."