The Bracken Woods Weep for yourself, my man

Alarian relaxed as the other seemed to calm, tilting his head slightly at the name offered. It was as foreign as the language he had spoken at first. He flicked one ear and raised his head, appraising the male silently. Everything about Arrluk spoke of confidence, sending a mix of heat and chills down the boy's spine. He almost reminded him of someone-- inexplicably his heart quickened, but the other male was speaking again before he could pursue the thought.

The answer made enough sense to Ali. He typically hadn't a clue where he was going-- and he typically wasn't lost, either. That Arrluk asked if he was lost brought him pause, if only because he realized for the first time he could point somewhere and say 'that's home'.
I'm not lost. Alarian tipped his muzzle in the direction of the pack-- his pack. The boy adopted a slightly more confident posture, though the change was small because he would always be a pansy. My pack has settled in one of the territories just outside this forest.