Bearclaw Valley when i was young, i'd feed on it

Her voice was sweet, if shy. He kept a respectful distance, not wanting to disconcert her. So many males--himself included, once upon a time--were bold and brash, with no regard for personal space. The tribe had taught him differently. Everyone should be treated gently at first, as if holding a robin's egg on your nose. Gently, with finesse.

"Hi, Indra," Phocion responded, the smile not leaving his face. "I'm Phocion." He dipped his muzzle to her in greeting. "I believe you're the first Valley wolf I've met formally. Besides Alexander, of course."

As with all not-yet official bands, the wolves of the Valley were scattered, a little disorganized. But Phocion knew that when the time was right, Alexander would throw up the howl, and they would unite. They would grow strong. Then, maybe, they would hear him out. About Fengari, about the stars.