Grouse Thicket Birds flying high

The conversation with Raven had been far from perfect, but it was what it was, and at least Phox could continue to live on the plateau while he scouted out nearby territories. He really did think it was the right move. Not just for him, but for Quixote, Raven, and probably Tegan, too. Good thing they hadn't crossed paths since that whole fiasco, yikes.

With Towhee (or whoever) watching after the kids, Phox made his way north of the plateau. He didn't think this particular forest would do for Fennec. It was much too dense. Still, there might be something beyond it more fitting, and he planned to branch out at least a little further over the next couple of days.

His nose eventually led him to a wolf chowing down on some berries, which he thought was a pretty great idea. Phox had never been overly friendly toward strangers, but he knew he'd need to get used to it if he planned on leading a pack. He wanted to prove (mostly to himself) that he could do a better job than Quixote.

With his scar-side facing her–something he rarely gave much thought–he began to chomp down on his own selection of fruit. These aren't half-bad, he remarked. Gods, small talk with strangers was the literal worst.