Gilded Bay deserted, my organs can go on without me

Phocion was relieved when the boy finally started to relax, only to find him tensing up once more. A low murmur caught in his throat, he ran his muzzle through the plush fur at Cortland's shoulder, pressing his nose against the warmth. He felt at once all-powerful and incredibly vulnerable; the guardian of this young man, yet he was keenly aware of the harm Cortland could do to him, should he want to.

He might as well have rolled over and shown his belly. He hoped that by showing Cortland his heart, his friend would do the same. Quiet, timid Cortland.

She was. . .mysterious. Phocion wished she would come back. He'd liked her, found somewhat of a kindred spirit in the woman. Bathed in the light of a rosy moon. . . He couldn't fault Cortland, nor her. Spirits were high. The timing fell into place. They'd only done what wolves had done for thousands of years--if it wasn't such a tradition, would they be standing here? Certainly not.

"That's okay, it's okay," he whispered, addressing both of them once more. He pulled back, blinking gently at the golden man. A small smile made its way over his lips, slowly reaching his eyes with a muted glow. "I'm going to Silvertip Mountain. Will you join me?"