Frogspawn Swamp thousands of years, an eternity, without changing

The scout nodded slow; other packs generally led in the direction of interests, in one way or another, be it through other wolves or more. He then didn't stop the tilt to his ears. Why not? he pressed with a lick of curiosity there, already wondering why that might be true for his pack. There were a few directions he could guess in. A fallen straggler from his parents' mountain was probably not a smooth fit among the Saints, anyway. Not that I am looking to join anywhere, necessarily, right at this moment. Antares clarified, so he wouldn't need to worry about seeing him around every day, if that was going to be some issue. He just wanted to hear about the packs, maybe be nosy, looking for distraction above all. Just wanted to see what else was out here. Beside the scenery, he supposed.

Beyond that, he had less to say about the Caldera--also firmly not a place he was going to consider joining any time soon. The fen place was simply noted. If it was too close to the Redhawks, then he had no interest. He didn't want to think of the last trip there he had made trailing Vallkyrie, not yet, or anytime soon really.