The Heartwood I know that I ended it,

That was a pack name that he knew, though his grandmother had had more to say about it than his father, who had been there far more recently. He knew that it was in the same valley as the ancestral lands he'd searched for a few months prior — but he had not seen Morningside Cuesta and he'd not seen Swift current Creek, either.

Not, at least, unless there was no longer a pack there to speak of.

He didn't pry. Only told her, "I've heard of it," — and, truly, he believed that last he'd heard of them had been from one of the great hunts that seemed now like they might become a thing of the past. He hoped not — but it seemed he would not be hunting with Leonore today, either.

"That's alright," he told her, a little laugh in his voice. "I'm looking for something else today. Something pretty to give to — to a friend of mine."

He cast his gaze around, as if said prize might be found cast at his paws or else lying conveniently on a rock.

"But I don't know what," he admitted.