Broken Antler Fen You float like a feather

There was still no word of Fennec, and it was exactly what Phox had feared: she had taken off again. At least this time, he found some peace in knowing that she was capable of surviving on her own (and maybe she had taken that little badger baby with her, training it to be her eyes). He certainly hoped so. Phox sucked in a deep breath and made his way south, hoping to check out Wraen and Maia's new digs. It took some time to get around the lake, going through the Haunted Wood. It wasn't quite as short of a trip as it was getting to Firefly Glen or even Moonspear. Still, it was close enough to be a good day trip.

Once he crossed the river and rounded the southern edge of Lake Rodney, things seemed to open up a whole lot more, and soon enough, he smelled the distinct scent of pack. Small, sure, but it was there. He did not think it would take Wraen and Maia long to gather the bodies they would need to claim it. Both of them were intelligent friendly folks, and Phox had always enjoyed their company. He didn't pass through that barrier, no matter how friendly he was with the wolves who lived here, but instead called for Wraen. Once that was done, Phox settled onto the ground, daydreaming about Dhal—WOW, NO. BAD PHOX, BAD.

Daydreaming about NIAMH.