Wapun Meadow Sun and the moon

Diaspora.

The name is expectedly unfamiliar. His interest is piqued. Mountains were not the easiest of territory to house a pack on, after all, but hearty territories bore fruit all the same. His green eyes shift to follow the movement of her muzzle, fixating briefly on the mountainscape beyond her as if to commit the location to memory. Certainly Evergreen would be mindful of Diaspora.

I see, he says, a touch breathless and obviously eager to know more. Evergreen turns back to her, ears swerving back. Guilty; a look that reads he has been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Uh, no... where specific to be honest? I'm unfamiliar with the lands so... I, uh, wanted to see what's out here. Dozens of opportunities probably. Its what his mother and uncle wanted him to experience, but Evergreen remains uncertain.