Two Rivers Isle We'll drive until the gas is gone

A bit, he replied, but he did not make a move to elaborate. The mention of a herd of deer piqued Phox's interest. He had followed a herd for quite some time in his youth not far from here, and he wondered if it was the same group. Phox thought it unlikely, but it might be possible. Herds rarely strayed too far from their original location unless they were forced out due to overfeeding by the wolves themselves. He looked in the direction that she had motioned wolves had settled. It did not sound like she was terribly happy about it, and Phox nodded understandingly. More wolves meant more competition meant less prey for the Redhawks.

When she guessed his name, he nodded. Considering neither he nor anybody he knew could spell, he had the same name as his mother in every way, shape, and form. Animals, he gently corrected, worrying immediately that he might be out of bounds by doing so. A tradition of our mother. He had gathered as much knowledge about his parents as he possibly could when he had been a child, and he had clung to every word.

He realized now that he was a bit further from home than he had originally thought. The cache he had placed the rabbits in must have been one belonging to somebody else, and he stared down at it blankly. Being in a pack was going to take some getting used to, and he looked back up to Niamh. This isn't even Redhawk land, is it? he asked, realizing his mistake.