Arrow Lake zero gravity

Not unlike the she-wolf he approached now, Phoenix had found himself in a mental quandary with at least two options stalling him from progressing. He had become dissatisfied with his spur-of-the-moment decision to join a band of wolves during their relocation. He had been impressed by their swarthy leader, and then pledged too-eagerly because of the shame he remembered feeling when Ishara had asked where he belonged. He thought he could belong here— just wedge himself in and make himself fit— but the adjustments were souring, and more and more he found himself disassociating with the wolves of Swiftcurrent Creek. They were too different from what he was used to.

He frequented this placid lake; he appreciated the quiet here. But when he arrived to his preferred haunt, he noticed quickly that it was occupied. Momentarily forgetting the things breeding malcontent into his consciousness, Phoenix gave a soft whuff and made his approach as gentle and unassuming as a wolf his size could. Because he was feeling lonely in his pack, his typical confidence had waned and instead of a bubbling introduction, he merely gave a shy wag of his head and a low dip of his red-banded skull.