Hushed Willows And I won't help but stare at every word

A welcome addition. He pondered her words, her invitation—was his presence amongst them truly something acceptable? Was he ready to give himself to another wolf’s land, beneath the rulings of this woman? For so long now, he lived his life as a wanderer without a home, free to come and go as he saw fit. He travelled from one land to the next, meeting those he enjoyed the company of—some he once questioned if he could ever leave the sides of, a devotion to them sneaking up and taking hold of him. Yet, time and time again, the phantom cut ties and continued on his way, leaving with hardly more than a whisper of parting: I’ll see you again soon.

Aging was a curious thing, however. As the years went by, he wondered for how long he might be able to keep up this act; how long could he continue to wander, aimless and purposeless, until it broke him? Perhaps it was time for a change, to allow himself to form roots within a land unknown—perhaps this could be a reason to stay.

“I think I would like to join this vale of yours,” he decided, thoughtful. “I cannot remember when last I felt at home somewhere. I would like to see if your home could become mine, too.” There was little for him to lose, one way or the other.