Hoshor Plains we call that progress, but it's just movement

The mountains? He repeated, only half-questioning as he gazed in the direction Wraen had gestured. The boy was entirely consumed now with thoughts of his family, of the dead father he had never known. The wolves you live with-- could any of them have known a Mayfair once?
It was a long shot, he knew, and perhaps she wouldn't even know herself. Cortland didn't expect a promising answer, so he pressed on after a couple seconds of pause. He was thinking out loud by now, but there was a hint of dejection in his tone. I don't have a clue where any of my family is, but that's all I have. If I can't find them-- I guess I should look for somewhere to stay.