Arrow Lake dropped in the middle of a forgotten spot

A whole winter passed, and nothing to show for it.

Phocion had come back to the Teekons in search of followers and instead had found himself a follower, wiling away the time in Bearclaw Valley. He had taken advantage of Xan's acceptance and the others' hospitality and had been idle, only doing the bare minimum to scrape by. Poet had been a friend, turning to him occasionally for conversation and advice--but otherwise he had spent his days asleep and his nights alone.

With the emergence of a new season, Phocion had returned to his old self. The piety and reserve he'd found in the tribe had been whittled away, revealing the wolf he was--and always had been--at his core. His turquoise eyes were bright, and there was a spring in his step that hadn't been there in moons. And that same burning return to youth spurred him to action--

He could not stay in Bearclaw Valley any longer.

Without word, he slipped one early twilight from the territory. Poet, by the scent trail exiting the valley, had also left recently, and he made it his first priority to find her. He felt free, released from the shackles he'd stepped into, and he let out a childlike yip as he loped across the open land, eventually coming to a vast lake at the foot of the mountains, shimmering with the reflection of the moon and stars.

Phocion drank greedily, droplets of water caught on his muzzle and sluicing through his fur as he tipped his head back to look at the stars. It was a clear night, with only a few wispy clouds to obscure the view.

Where to next? Didn't matter. The world was his, again.