Hoshor Plains you didn't come this far to only come this far.

Fig had been in the Wilds for nearly a month with a perfectly clear goal in mind, though not so clear of a direction. He'd wandered the Hinterlands for a few weeks, visiting the places of his childhood before heading North and traveling along the Coast to circumvent the barrier mountains. He was headed South now, but was feeling very uncertain about whether or not he was actually headed in the right direction. Navigation had never been a strength of his, but considering what he'd found, perhaps he'd been wrong to doubt himself...

He thought his nose must be deceiving him. Perhaps it was just the strength of his desire to see his parents, but he felt quite certain the faintest whisper of his father's scent was on the bark of the discarded stick at his feet. He had stood sniffing eagerly at it for a few minutes now, his confidence in the assertion wavering back and forth. If he actually was going in the right direction, then it would make sense for these plains to perhaps be their hunting grounds. That was assuming they hadn't left the canyon he last knew them to be living in, and who knew whether that was the case or not.

Doubts aside, Fig saw no real reason to be such a pessimist about it. Maybe his nose was tricking him, maybe it wasn't. He would carry on regardless.

But first...

Fig tilted his head back and sent a howl into the air. Just in case his family actually was nearby to hear him. Even if they weren't, perhaps he could get the attention of someone who could steer him in the right direction.