Hoshor Plains in new york, you can be a new man

A flash of silver in the brown mass that was the bison herd caught his eye, and Phocion craned his head, trying to see over the wooly creatures. They parted, eventually, and he saw a sleek young wolf, close by a large male, looking at the animal with wonder. Phocion had much of the same in his gaze, and he loped slowly that way, cautiously eyeing the others in the herd.

The white priest weaved through the bison, trotting smoothly up before pulling to a halt. There must have been a dearth of wolves in this valley, at least as of late, for the bison seemed completely undisturbed by their close proximity. He gave a soft chuff to the silver male, head tilted in silent curiosity. A couple of animals started at the noise, but went back to placidly grazing soon enough.

"Magnificent, are they not?" Phocion asked, looking at their great heads, the gently curving horns. He gazed at Keelut, then, with a smile set on his face. "They say long ago, there were herds ten, twenty times this size, roaming the plains. When there were two moons and a world of stars. Things were better, then."