Phoenix Maplewood home is what you make of it

brisbane's wandering takes him north of fox's glade though the coywolf has no actual destination. there was an undeniable freedom to being on his own and more personal and selfish yet was the fact that he wasn't forcing himself to subjugate himself to anyone else's rule; though the lawlessness comes at the price of constantly being on the search of what he's come to refer to as ❛the big three❜ as he reverts to a more primal side of survival: food, water, shelter. if a territory did not offer those three pivotal things — and suffice to say not every territory was cut out to sustain the life of even a wolf passing through — he does not linger long; though the blackshark's not been prone thus far to linger in one place for too long as it was.

there was a lot of the wilds to explore, a lot of flora to be cataloging and familiarizing himself with. to stave off the boredom that threatens to overtake him some days this is what he focuses on. wolves were social creatures by nature and beyond that he is, admittedly, used to being someone's center of gravity. whether that someone was warwick, karratha, and taleigha or just from being the beta of blackshark bay. brisbane was used to his attention being needed and there are days — not many but a few — in which the coywolf curses his own ceaseless ambition for causing him to give up what he had on impulse and the desire for more.

the woodlands he'd entered at some point draw him with their slightly sweet smell — of sap ( though it does not smell as sweet as maple ) and berries — and though the berries held no medicinal properties it was still fauna. a small patch of wild blackberries catches his attention and he cuts across a worn path to investigate, aware that he was not the only wolf in the general vicinity as a pale sylph catches his attention from the corner of his eye. brisbane lets out a low chuff to announce his presence out of decorum alone before he plucks a ripe blackberry from the bush and eats it.