Emberwood of mice

The plateau seemed to spark a memory in the ashen brute’s mind, and his ears immediately flicked forward at the mention of it. This was the alpha, then; Kierkegaard was pressed to recall his conversation with another dark-furred wolf about the pack. It was, after all, the only pack that had been given a name since Kierke had arrived in the Teekon area. The others had scents, but he did not know what they were called. More interested in the fact that this Peregrine was the leader of the soul pack that Kierkegaard had knowledge of, he canted his head to the side and narrowed his brows. “The Plateau… Blue Willow spoke of your pack,” he remarked quietly, assuming that the dark alpha would know of whom he was referring to. Pondering this occurrence to himself, the ashen Sairensu almost missed the question that had followed Peregrine’s remarks about his current pack and his search for new territory. “No. I live wherever I can,” he answered with a short shrug of his broad shoulders. “Today, I suppose you could call this my home.” It was a simple answer, though Kierkegaard did not give the question much thought. He had no real home to speak of.