Gilded Bay the depths are calling

Relocating? More like fleeing. Fleeing places he knew like the back of his paw. Every path, every crest of his grandparents' mountain; the cleft of the valley below, misty on the warmest of days and frozen on the coldest. Herds would stroll about, seldom vanishing into remote woods...He remembers the scent of spruce and pine fondly.

Lost in times since past, Natjuk allows the sound of their footfalls to fill their ears. He never loses pace, meeting Govinda step for step. The crunch of sand is deafening and grates on the warrior's nerves. He vocalizes abruptly as if not an ounce of melancholy lurked in the recesses of his heart.

I was born there. We called ourselves Tartok. And he can tell none of Tartok's claim resides in Teekon. It is possible that some have tried to do just that, though. But those details are of no concern to Govinda. I left halfway into my second year. Lies. Another devil on his back. Ran with a pack for a short time until we decided to disperse. In that short time, he had learned a lot. Not enough, evidently.

And you? Why should he be the only one spilling half-truths? From where do you originate?