Honeyed Pasture inside, he was longing for something to be a part of

His ears pricked as she spoke, relaxing as she went on. He gave her a curt nod, trying to keep any sort of emotion from his face. He knew what a harlot was, he knew their purpose--he didn't necessarily agree with the concept, but if she was kind enough to do something for him, then he could extend the same kindness for her.

"I will pass that along," Phocion said gently, smiling. "Thank you for your help--and good night." With that, he trotted off, breaking into a gallop once the woman had receded into the distance. Any sense of calm given to him by her warm, sing-song cadence fell away, replaced by the same bitter fear that had ruled his mind since the boy had gone missing.

Oh, god, Cortland, where are you?