Phantom Hollow it's a dangerous business, going out your door

He didn't much like the hollow; it was all too quiet and covered in trees, which impacted his view of the sky. Sparse light made it through the canopy, and it was in this that he basked, ruminating on all that had come to pass since he'd left Bearclaw Valley.

They'd crossed the mountains, leaving the impish coyote behind--good riddance, he thought. He'd caught a glimpse of Silvertip from the ridges of the Sunspires, and felt an overwhelming sense of joy. Finally, finally he was coming home. Now they had stopped to rest in this eerie place, with the crag growing larger and larger as they approached.

They were so very close.

Even a mouse would have caught his ear in the silence, so Cortland's uneven gait brought his head around, his eyes cutting through the darkness as the golden boy approached. His lips tightened in a frown as he noticed how much he favored that injured paw, and rushed over to him.

"Sit down, sit down," Phocion insisted, pressing his muzzle gently against the boy's shoulder. He stared apologetically at Cortland, ears folding backward. "I'm sorry. We've been traveling so fast, I didn't even think about your paw." He had to find Poet soon; she'd know how to treat the wound properly. For now, all they could do was stop and rest.