Neverwinter Forest that which takes in turns, gives in spades

He nodded, trying to keep it all in mind. He thought he was already familiar with Hemlock, but the priest wasn't exactly sure. His mouth twitched; he hated how useless he was with herbs and plants, how he could never get the names and appearances to match. Some wolves were just gifted with a head for nature--he had always been more enchanted with words and the stars.

Poet asked him of his plans, and he answered readily. "We'll go to Silvertip Mountain, my old home," Phocion said. "I want to settle there again. Last time I was there, it was unoccupied. I hope that is still the case." Even if not, he supposed it wouldn't the worst thing in the world to integrate himself once more with a pack. He just had to be careful not to get complacent as he had in Bearclaw Valley, whiling away day after useless day.