Blackfeather Woods wild spirit, which art moving everywhere;

Zephyr, the ghost, slipped up beside Rowan with a question spilling from his lips. He was right, they hadn't spoken much since he turned reclusive. 
He let out a soft humming sound of contemplation. 

Rowan always thought he'd lead the Ivory. He felt he was born to protect, and he didn't kniw a lot about alot. Zephyr had been further and done more.
"What would you like to do?" 
It was important they both did what they enjoyed. What they felt like they could really delve into and help support the pack in.
There was no point without passion.