Honeyed Pasture take off all the thoughts of what we've been

tags for reference

He'd been patrolling, hoping Cortland was in the care of Poet, but when he returned to their rendezvous site, the golden Mayfair was gone. This immediately sent alarm coursing through his veins; the last time his friend had disappeared, Phocion had found him unconscious, having fallen from the side of a cliff. Trying to swallow the mounting dread rising like bile in his throat, he let @Poet know where he was headed and followed Cortland's scent trail, pawsteps coming faster and faster as he descended the mountain.

The pasture was flat enough that one could see for a long while, though the grass was long. Still, before long, he caught sight of Cortland's gilded pelt, and a ruddy wolf near him. Too near. Coming to a perplexed halt, Phocion watched them from afar, a strange feeling curdling in his stomach as he did so. He thought the other was a vaguely familiar shape, but he couldn't say for sure.

What was Cortland doing? Leaving home without word, still injured, still speechless, but going out of his way to converse with strangers? There was anger, now, mixed with the worry, and Phocion took a step forward, as to intrude--but then stopped, collecting himself. This might be a potential recruit. Cortland might have taken it upon himself to find new wolves for the tribe.

Watch and wait, he told himself, licking dry lips and fixing his icy gaze upon the pair.