He missed home. Let that be stated first and last, but his father had insisted he see the world. Had told him to spread his wings, whatever that meant. It hadn't mattered much. The man had been old, nearly senile.
He had still loved him all the same.
But now he cut through a shadowy forest, rolling through it without a second thought. Only thought he had was how empty it seemed here. Not a scent scattered through here beyond the usual wildlife. Just. No wolves. Had a famine swept through? Illness?
He scoffed to himself, loudly and unconcerned. Then shuffled around the roots of a tree, wondering if someone had left something behind.