Swiftcurrent Creek But there may be words I can't comprehend all alone

Larus had done his best to map the territory after his acceptance, and hadn't let himself sleep or eat until he'd trailed the borders and gotten a handle on what counted as his new home. None of it was familiar. But he tried anyways, and even doubled back on occasion to spots with oddities (a criss-crossing pair of trees, that weird mound of stone where Phoenix had found him, a bend in the river with some colorful shallows) to make sure his memory loss hadn't persisted. So far, things seemed alright. There was no telling how far back his memory loss went, but it didn't affect his immediate surroundings — more like, the past six months or so were a blur. Maybe longer. He took comfort in the somewhat petrifying fact that he had a memory, although it was limited to weeks.

Upon completing another round of the borders (and finding it very quiet), Larus wandered along the river's edge for a bit. He tested the water with a flick of his tongue, wandered until he found a bend which seemed deep—and then took an interest in watching the water's flow. Maybe he'd find something tasty in there and bring it to Constantine? His wife was sure to be hungry—but even as he thought of this, Larus caught sight of a canine figure. A female, all alone. He chuffed softly and approached her, his tail-tip flicking in a show of friendliness, but otherwise he was quiet.