Sun Mote Copse i just pulled up to the studio and laid it on the line

He doesn’t remember much about this place, besides its location. Slathered in mud from the neighboring bog to the west, he moseys along the western edge of the copse and tries to conjure more details about his birthplace. Bushtit remembers the den, particularly his favorite old skin tucked in the back. He decides he wants to fetch it.

Scents weave into his nose and he slows his step, blinking a little. Wait, did someone else claim the territory? He doesn’t know why he’s surprised; it’s a great place to set up shop. And it doesn’t belong to his family any longer. But he feels a little put out, realizing his mission to retrieve his baby blanket has been foiled.

Bushtit inhales, then rolls his shoulders. He exhales by way of a low howl, asking for an audience with any of the wolves now in residence.

Waawaashkeshi had become bedridden by her pregnancy now, and the woman who Sunchaser knew to take care of the Storyleader was suddenly gone. His patrols had been consistent before, but now they were constant. He knew the copse to be a place of peace, and yet he feared the worst.

Traipsing the path he walked hour by hour each day he found that it was growing to be indented. Pondering this for the moment, he was pulled from it by the howl of a stranger. As fearful as he was, he knew it was his responsibility to confront it. Howling back to ensure they knew he was coming, Sunchaser gathered himself and made his way towards the call.

A young man, muddy and unfamiliar. He wasn't so sure of what to think. Can I help you? He called out from where he approached in the trees.

Someone quickly replies, informing him he’s on his way. Bushtit thinks it’s a guy, anyway, based on the tenor of his call. His lips pull into a smile as he shifts his weight, patiently waiting for the wolf to appear. He hopes the stranger’s as friendly as he sounds, so maybe there’s a chance he’ll be able to nab the skin after all—that is, if nobody threw it out.

Moments later, a figure approaches from the nearby tree line. He’s the color of clay, the dark shadows underneath his eyes giving him a careworn sort of look. He’s middling in height and slenderer than the slightly stocky Bushtit. Something about his posture makes the Redhawk question his gender, though everything else about him says male.

Hey! I’m Bushtit and, believe it or not, I was born here, he introduces, dark eyes bright. I came back to snoop, not realizing there might be a new pack here, he adds, head tilting to indicate his curiosity about the wolves who’ve laid claim to the place.

Alright, so this wolf had a sort of birth right. He already knew what Waawaashkeshi would do, welcoming him with songs and stories, but Sunchaser didn't have her charisma. Nonetheless, he would have to try and be a good host.

I'm Sunchaser, and uh, this is the Summerwalker territory. He responded, nodding to the ground beneath them. We'll only be here until the summer, but if you wanted to take a look I doubt our Storyleader would mind. She doesn't bite. It only seemed right, given he spent his earliest days here. Sunchaser would make sure to stick close anyways.

He couldn't help but be curious of the stranger. He had good features, androgynous and remarkably pretty for a boy in a usually awkward stage of growth; it felt unfair, really.

No shi… Bushtit blurts right in the middle of the guy’s introduction, then shuts his mouth with an apologetic tip of his head.

He waits until Sunchaser’s finished before saying, What’re the odds of a dude named Sunchaser and a pack called Summerwalkers living here in Sun Mote Copse? But only temporarily, which really intrigues the young traveler. Why leave in the summer?

Summer’s right around the corner, isn’t it? He can probably wait, though Sunchaser really doesn’t seem to mind his intrusion. He’ll need a minute to think it over, during which he waits expectantly for some elaboration.

He tensed for a moment before Bushtit cut himself off. But he had stated the obvious, so he would forgive him.

I just stumbled here by coincidence really, but it does suit me. He responded with a light chuckle. The name is literal, we travel in the summer. It's a good deal, we get to see the world all while staying in a pack. The wolves seemed easy enough to get along with too, which was a plus for him. I'm not sure where we'll go next, but I'm sure Waawaashkeshi has something in mind.

Bushtit’s eyes widen the more Sunchaser says about the Summerwalkers. He’s never been remotely tempted by a pack before, though he’s also never heard of a nomadic one. He has to know more. He wants to know everything.

Hold up, what do you do the rest of the year if you only travel in summer? You park, like you’re doing here? he guesses. Wait, when did you guys even get here? We were here last summer, so you would’ve had to arrive in fall or winter. But you only travel in summer…?

His head tilts. He hopes his questions don’t bother Sunchaser. He’s just so curious to understand how this works.

This kid asks a lot of questions - it really wasn't bothering Sunchaser, but he did worry that properly answering them would be a challenge.

I'm not a Summerwalker by birth, none of us are except our leader. She only formed here recently to continue her family traditions. He responded, clicking his tongue as he considered Bustit's words. We're supposed to trade in the summer too, so I know that we spend the rest of the year building up for that.. and having pups, letting them grow, probably. If you want to know more, I would probably be better off taking you to Waawaashkeshi. It didn't feel right for him to pretend to know what he was talking about.

He did feel some pride at the other's interest in the pack, really. He wanted others to think that the pack was just as great as he knew it could be.

The founder—whose name he can never hope to pronounce—only recently reestablished the pack. Now everything makes a little more sense. Bushtit nods his acknowledgement. The rest of it also tracks, though he can’t help but compare his own preferences to theirs. He doesn’t think he could sit still a majority of the year, only traveling in summertime, much as the concept intrigues the hell out of him.

I don’t plan to join or anything, so I don’t want to bother her, he hedges in response to Sunchaser’s repeated offer. I mean, I’d love to hear more about it, but I don’t want to waste anybody’s time. Although… Bushtit says, trailing off with a thoughtful expression.

Although? He repeated, managing a small smile. She's stuck by her den right now, so I promise you won't be bothering anyone.

He assumed that the wolf came here for something anyways, so nonetheless he expected that he would be escorting Bushtit into or away from the territory. Sunchaser still wasn't all for conflict, so he was hoping for the former. Given he personally had never been tempted to return to his own birthplace, he was pretty curious to know what had made him come back anyways.

Sunchaser prompts him and Bushtit returns his smile. He has no idea why he’s hesitating after calling this audience with two distinct goals in mind. Having satisfied the first—learn more about the wolves living here—he can go two for two now, walk among his earliest childhood memories.

Well, he begins, when we lived here, we all shared a den. It had a name, but I don’t remember it. I was wondering if I could go there. I left something behind, I wanna see if it might still be there. I dunno where this Wishy-washy lady lives, he quips, winking in the hope Sunchaser doesn’t mind the joke, but maybe the old den’s on the way?

He wonders if anyone else is living there, perhaps even the founder herself. That should at least makes things straightforward, Bushtit thinks. He tries to remember the den’s exact location. He’s fairly certain it’s somewhere in the heart of the copse. He’ll know it when he sees it. Or smells it, he’s pretty sure.

..Just call her Keshi. He advises, offering a slight smile.

Sunchaser tried to think if he had found an old den at all in his time living within the copse, and he certainly had, but the issue was more that he had found a lot of them. Wolves, foxes, rabbit burrows, and plenty of other animals who had settled in the territory while it had been empty. Alright, if you have an idea of where it was I'll go along with you. He agreed. Whatever had been left behind, he had little hope that it was still there waiting for Bushtit.

I used ye olde map from here, for reference!

Sunchaser corrects him about the name, earning an absent nod from Bushtit. He offers to escort the younger male, supposing he knows the den’s rough location. Bushtit takes a moment to ascertain his surroundings and think, then nods to himself this time.

It’s on the far side, because of course it is.

He waits to make sure Sunchaser doesn’t mind and then strides across the borderline, cutting diagonally through the copse. Soon, they approach a forking stream with a pile of stones on its bank. He remembers it, though not its name. He splashes across—swirling his legs to clean the clinging mud off them—and walks past the natural cairn. Bushtit’s eyes squint and he pauses just beyond.

Okay, if memory serves, there’s a little lake straight through here, he says to Sunchaser, motioning east, and then it’s a straight shot north from there. Why do I want to say they called it ‘The Tie’? That makes no sense, he adds, mumbling to himself.

It’s not long before he sets eyes on the familiar “cottage.” He’s caught off guard by the strong wave of nostalgia that crashes over him. Bushtit hastens his step, quite possibly leaving his companion behind as he rushes to the doorway. He thrusts his head inside without thinking.

Sunchaser follows after Bushtit, mentally checking off landmarks as he goes. He feels almost at peace for the moment before the boy goes bounding forward, sticking his head into a den without hesitation.

Careful! He cries, rearing back as though preparing for disaster. Sunchaser worries that the den may have been repurposed; hadn't he smelled badgers around the territory before? Or what if there were underground boars?

The shout from behind startles him, causing him to bump his noggin on the doorway. Bushtit swears under his breath and rubs at his skull as he backpedals away from the threshold. The den is as familiar as it is empty. There’s no sign of his beloved blanket.

There’s nothing in there, he reports, grimacing at the pounding ache in his head. I’m really not surprised. It’s been a long time, he adds, shrugging. Thanks for letting me look, though.

They’re supposed to go see Keshi next, so Bushtit can learn more about the Summerwalkers. But what he really needs to do now is dunk his head in some cold water and then lie down somewhere. He shoots Sunchaser an apologetic look, even if a small part of him blames the other wolf for the mishap.

Man, I really bonked it. I think I need to go lie down, he admits. Thanks for the time, Sunchaser. I can see myself out.