Otatso Wetlands tatarmoon

Gavrel did not blame Thyme for being scared of the ocean. At its best it still came with a dose of vertigo. All that water, for all those fathoms -- it was incomprehensible.

Good nose, he said through a half-smile, deciding then and there that he could trust the other man. I'm of Redtail Rise.

He paused. It's funny you mention customs, and whatnot. The Rise is pretty... out there, I think.

This was surely nothing more than a cultural difference, but the thought of flitting between packs unnerved him. It made more sense than handcuffing yourself to a sinking ship, but perhaps it was the persistent romantic in Gavrel that bade him to go all in or go home, to devote yourself completely and for life until it was physically impossible to do so.

You've never thought about settling down? He flicked his ears, the unscarred half of his face tense with scrutiny.