Hushed Willows world enough, and time

He had slipped again away from the borders of Easthollow, and this time, roved a day and a night, directly to the taiga plains that he and Eleuthera had looked down up from the ridge. From here, he could see trees in the distance, nestled down at the base of the mountain. And, as he had imagined it in his mind's eye, there were moorish floodlands between himself and his destination.

Kincaid sighed to himself, and began picking his way across the still waters, choosing where he could to scale tree trunks and walk along them so as not to get any of the foul-smelling mud on his paws. (He had high hopes, still, that she might again allow him to touch her. Soiled paws did not seem the way to give himself the best chance.)

Eventually, there were more trees standing than there were flat on the ground; the willows here had been protected from whatever force had torn down all the others. And here, along with the thick scent of the willow wolves, there was a certain hush over the land that had Kincaid's ruddy mane standing on-end.

The male tipped back his frost-and-autumn muzzle to sing forget me not1, calling for @Eleuthera to meet him at the borders.

1 | "forget me not" is one of several greeting "songs" that a wolf might howl when coming to call on someone. This one is typically reserved for lovers.