The foundation

Gargoyle hefted the she-wolf up with a grunt. Straightening up his neck and tucking his chin, he started to pick up the pace into a an easy, jogging trot. If only he'd still had his tail, then he would've perfectly resembled a mother tabby carting about her kitten. The trot quickened as he began to really cover ground. His ears twitched when the girl spoke. It seemed she'd been blessed with a good nose and a good amount of curiosity. Of course he wasn't from Seracia. He smelled like a mixture of snow and ash and nearly thirty other wolves she'd never met before. But he couldn't really get an answer out around the mouthful of her scruff. Besides, a proper answer to that 'where' was a little difficult at the moment. In the end, the best he could manage, was a wet, mumbled, "Long story."

As the time passed away with the trees and feilds, the scent of Seracia began to drift in on the stray wind. It was terribly faint, but at least Gargoyle was now going by more than just the vague directions his sister had given him form when she visited the southern kingdom. "Almost there, kiddo."