Lost Creek Hollow underneath the black locust tree

Andalusia stood quietly by as each introduced themselves in turn. When her time came to speak, she gave her name, but offered little more than that. She knew her ambitions, and the pack would see them in time through deed, not word. It would be a while before she struck the road again, anyway; the pack remained in infancy, and her efforts would bear greater fruit here. Luke appeared a keen outrider, so she would tarry her own desires and commit herself to strengthening their claim, for the good of those here and still to come.

This land held secrets of its own, and staying was no sacrifice. Andalusia itched to explore the hidden parts of the Hollow they'd yet to venture through, and fresh energy filled her. So once small talk came upon them, Andalusia dipped a short farewell to Harlyn and her uncle before she slipped away from those still gathered. The falls drowned the chorus of the woods, and Andalusia broke into a trot. She needn't travel quicker; for as long as she remained in the Wilds, this place was home.