Luneshale Pass don’t ask me how i did it, i just did it, it was hard

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He kisses his mom’s cheek before he leaves. Bushtit isn’t sure if he’ll swing by again or get back to roaming after he pays his padre a visit. He knows Towhee understands, though he wrestles with a small measure of guilt as he lopes south. She’s lost two old friends recently, he knows, even if one has technically been dead for half a year…

Somewhere just pass the mesa, he smells something unmistakable. Bushtit follows the scent like a heat-seeking missile. Even though he’s underage, the she-wolf he tracks down doesn’t seem to mind. They never do. She’s a little young for his tastes—she’s no older than four—but he enjoys himself.

When they part, he continues toward the pass. He pulls up at his dad’s place smelling like wharf nut and smiling like a Cheshire cat. Bushtit takes a second to smooth some mussed fur before howling an hola to @Soto.