Moonspear Find me where the wild things are

She was as well traveled as he was, if not a smidgen more. He found that admirable to say in the least, for it were no easy achievement to cover ground and flit between claims. The world was chock full of wolves like them too; it was just as easy to find another face if one knew where exactly to look. And sometimes, it required no looking at all, if the world felt favorable to set things in front of them. Perhaps such a meeting as this was one of them, and he found himself yearning for the weather to turn favorable again for such travel, come what may.

"We seem to have covered much of the same ground," he rejoined. "There is quite the variety to be found between the mountains and then beyond that. Shame the weather turns unfavorable the further north you go, though there are some stunning locales there to see." He didn't miss much of them though, not at all a fan of the ill-favored chill that lingered. "But the coast is also my favorite place to roam. I haven't seen all of it from one end to the other, but a good thing is perhaps best enjoyed in moderation."

In the wake of his words, he felt wistful and bittersweet—he had lingered in this place for a long time, longer than he had ever intended. There were creature comforts, but that came with anything familiar. A vague sense of safety and community ever held at arm's length, if by nothing else than his own reservations. He supposed it was nice to belong and yet the siren song of the wilds called to him in spite of it.

my turn to apologize for the wait