Phoenix Maplewood locked in your own home

All this rain, all these branches… the wood’s seen better days, hasn’t it? It’s a shame, really; the undergrowth must be drowning and those berries are awfully tempting. Part of Dakota wants to stop and feast, but if someone’s claimed these forests? Not that it’s never stopped him from hunting, since he can always say he chased prey over the border without noticing. There’s something different about plopping down to gorge in what might be pack lands. Negligence, that’s it.

So instead, Dakota makes a mental note of the potential loot and sets out towards the forest’s southern edge. Wouldn’t hurt to ask the locals. As he scans the landscape—lo and behold, a white-furred wolf. With a friendly whuff Dakota announces his presence. “Lovely weather, isn’t it?” He’ll gauge the wolf’s response before pressing further. It helps if they’re on the same page.