Little Goat Mountain a too-small mountain

Amsu’s expression softened when Stigmata admitted that he too had lost his homeland. “Amsu is sorry,” he said quietly, bowing his head in solidarity. He was interested in Stigmata’s diaspora, but his true calling lay in making his own home here, in this new land. “Amsu thanks you for your invitation,” he said, bowing his head again. “However…”

Here, the golden wolf scanned the horizon, as if searching for something… or someone. “Amsu was followed by a group of wolves, and at some point, we were separated. Amsu is hoping his family finds him again, or he is not sure what he will do.” His tail drooped in melancholy at the thought of never seeing his family again. “He is hoping to make a new pack here, somewhere, in these new lands, though he has yet to find a suitable place. He is used to the desert. These lands of bitter cold and snow are not made for him, no.” His eyes remained scanning the distance for a moment, and then he turned back to Stigmata. “Perhaps Amsu will come find you if… if his family remains lost to him.” He gave the dark male a wan smile.