The Heartwood i'm a ghost of you, you're a ghost of me

Well, he was neither a loner nor in search of anything — the forest held everything he could ever want, and for now it was the perfect place for him. He was intrigued by the skull-faced wolf all the same; or maybe intrigue was the wrong word. It was more likely that Mou was intimidated. He spoke of the sea without fear, and tread the wilds as if they held no surprises for him. The boy wished, deep down, that he could be so fearless, so commanding, so confident. He was only ever confident when Maegi was around him.

Good luck, 'den, he slurred, indicating with his lack of conversation that he wasn't after those things — a new home, a calling. Mou wished he could fit in somewhere as well as this man appeared to fit in to the wilderness, but so far fate would allow that. He didn't feel that comfortable in Blackfeather Woods without his companion and he wondered off-handedly as he nodded a farewell to the stranger, if he could ever be as free as this wolf before him. Probably not.