Firefly Glen just the same as i was

After finding nothing at Blacktail Deer Plateau, Cicero had decided to head on west. He did not wish to scale the mountains for he knew what was behind there; the land in which he had met the white wolf, however further southeast it had been, and did not wish to risk running into him again now. Especially because he did not have a face nor a name to go on. It could be anyone. So he headed west, soon finding himself disappointed by running into the borders of not one, but two packs. Silvertip and Neverwinter were now both claimed, it appeared, and Cicero had to go all the way round if he wished to go further west. It cost him more time to travel and, had he known, Cicero would have gone north and followed the coast instead so that he would not double-check on any territories.

Surrounded by packs, it seemed, Cicero managed to find passage towards Firefly Glen by the time of nightfall. Lights danced alongside him as Cicero made his way through a meadow with tall grasses, with snow still clinging to their tops. The scenery was magical, but Cicero was not here to appreciate the aesthetics. Perhaps he ought to check out Neverwinter, for he knew vaguely of Silvertip — enough to know that they'd been around for longer than the Plateau wolves'd moved — but for now he continued on past it, hoping to run into new scents or new wolves that could hand him information. Maybe come morning he would visit Neverwinter Forest's frays to see if it would bring him anything good.