Silvertip Mountain holding on to what i can't have

for @Poet, tagging @Phocion for visibility

It was a rare occasion that he woke and found himself without Phocion— and certainly distressing every time. Cortland roused slowly, but was immediately aware of being alone. Alone, and cold— no, he did not like this. The sunset-furred Mayfair rolled over and whined, long and low; after several beats, he pulled himself to his feet. He had not attempted to leave wherever Phocion and Poet had decided to store his broken ass until now.
Emphasis on until now. He rose shakily and took a few tentative steps towards freedom, unsure where he intended to go. The obvious answer was find Phocion— but, did he want to do that? It was his first time up, and perhaps there was something more important or interesting to try... no, Phocion was definitely the most interesting thing in his life. Cortland sucked in a breath and tried a few more steps, finding his limbs wobbly and uncooperative but, somehow, functional. Yay for small victories!