Whitefish River old friends, sat on their park bench like bookends

Steady. His heart sank like a stone in water as Grayday passed along the news of the alpha's passing. Steady had been a good man. Though Phocion had not gotten off on the best foot with him, they had soon bonded. . .and he would even go so far as to call Steady a friend, at their best.

Phocion would be sure to say a prayer for that noble man, a little later on.

"Valette," he echoed, face scrunching in concentration. Had she been among the Silvertip wolves, as well? He searched the recesses of his mind for the name, digging deep. A young, slim dark-furred wolf, who had sought a new home. . .maybe? "The name is familiar, for sure. I don't think I got to know her very well, though."

He dipped his head to Grayday, a smile returning to his features once more. "Congratulations on the children," he said warmly. Phocion had not yet had the opportunity to sire a litter of his own, but he was all too happy to celebrate when others had. His mind, though, quickly flipped back to the others he had known, so long ago.

"What of Krypton? Ezekiel? Anita?" He tried not to sound too eager. . .but he was curious, after all.