Honeyed Pasture sworn before a light of knife's edge white

From south of Moonspear, Atlantis moves north. There’s no particular direction in his feet, as it’s always been since he’d left home, and his chance encounter with an interesting woman hasn’t changed it. Most days he thinks about his family but the swarthy woman easily pulls his thoughts her way. It would be easy to cut his journey short and retreat back to the mountain but what justice does that do his family? He’d left to explore, as his DeMonte blood calls for, and if there is nothing out there for him, he knows where to go.
 
His travels turn lonely since he parts his only friend in these wilds and moves through one place to the next. Lingering long in any one place isn’t in his forte, eager to see what the world has to offer him. By the time he smells wolf, he doesn’t necessarily see her. Brows knit together and he glances over the tall grass, lifting his head high to try and see. In the distance, he sees the tall grasses sway with cartoonish movements and he moves in that direction. Grass stands higher than his shoulder by this point and he loses sight ahead, and he certainly hasn’t given up. With a slight point of his nose, he releases a low, localized call for the stranger.