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

He shook his head, feeling guilty himself, as he settled down next to Cortland. It was a fairly chilly night, though balmy compared to the winter the Wilds had been given, and Phocion was grateful for his companion's body heat. Unfortunately, some of that heat seemed to pulse from the injured paw, and from the smell of it, he knew it was infected in some way.

"My friend, Poet, knows a lot about herbs and plants," he murmured, looking over at Cortland. "She'll know which ones to use, when we find her." He gave a wistful sigh as he thought of Poet, his truest friend in Bearclaw Valley. She'd left so suddenly, and he didn't know why, or where she'd gone. He knew there was discontent between the alphas and the Redleaf sisters that had reverberated through the pack; was that the reason she had vanished?

He stared at Cortland, a smile coming to his face. "Chrysos," he said suddenly, thinking of the star that had hung just above the horizon when he'd first encountered the boy. "Bright and golden. It's very clear in the spring sky. That's you." He lifted his nose to the dark canopy above, where the light of the moon just barely filtered through. "That's your star."

Phocion looked back down at his new friend, eyes sparkling. "Do you want to hear a story?"