Hideaway Strath If I look back, I am lost.

Unlike Towhee, Phox felt relief and a new sense of purpose out here, away from the plateau. The dreams of the one-eyed red wolf and her dark companion had all but vanished (although he had never figured out what they were saying, and he probably never would). He was happy for Fig and Fennec, glad that they would grow up not in the shadow of Quixote, but in his shadow. A calm sense of control had washed over him, and it felt really fucking good. Phox had never been a leader before, but now it felt like the most natural thing in the world. And why wouldn't it? He'd been born from leaders, and he'd been raised by leaders. He already had all the knowledge, and all he needed to do now was to apply it.

Also unlike Towhee, he wasn't deaf. So when she got up in the middle of the night, and woke him up, Phox followed her. He nudged her shoulder once he'd caught up. It was so dark out he could barely make out anything, so he figured lip-reading wouldn't be of much use out here. Instead, he merely let his weight press into her in as comforting as a way as he could conjure up. He didn't really know how to help, but it was the best he could do.