Lost Creek Hollow Is a new philosophy

Penn's excitement began to spark once again as the woman spoke of opportunities. It didn't falter in the slightest when she spoke of potential trouble, mostly because he barely noticed. He was headstrong and overly confident. He'd gotten in enough scrapes to know the world was full of dangers, but he'd also gotten out of enough of them to think himself indestructable. He would be wary of nothing.

The boy pulled up his mental map as she continued, marking here and there the locations of the three packs she mentioned. Easthollow sounded lame. He would probably pop by, but only because he was curious about everything and saw no reason not to. Bearclaw sounded more interesting, especially because he was essentially told not to go there. Obviously he would have to now, though he nodded sagely along as though he wouldn't.

The last pack was hers, and Penn didn't wonder at all if she meant that literally. She seemed the kind of woman that would run the place--harder than Wraen, but with that same sort of commanding presence. Penn wasn't sure if shacking up with a new pack right away was what he wanted, but some aspects of the idea had merit. So, he shrugged. "If you've got a sales pitch, I'm all ears," he replied, matching her smirk with one of his own.