Arrow Lake dropped in the middle of a forgotten spot

"Cortland," he murmured, meeting the boy's bright eyes. "It's a pleasure." He did not flinch away as the other lifted his nose to sniff at him, merely waiting until the scent inquiry was complete. He caught traces of something--someone?--vaguely familiar in the boy's own pelt, but it was mostly a muddle with no real pattern. A lone wolf, perhaps?

"Do you make your home around here, or are you a wanderer?" Phocion asked, looking up at the alpine lake. It was vast, with the other shore a thin dark line against the immense sky. For a fleeting moment, he considered claiming this place for his own--

He stifled a laugh at his own thoughts, merely smiling ruefully. How could he claim a place--much less, a place like this--with no power, no followers? He must settle for traveling from place to place, until he recruited enough converts to stake a claim. Perhaps Silvertip. . .but it was all conjecture, at this point. He had only now gotten his freedom; shouldn't he enjoy it?