Big dreams that take us far away

At his father's behest, Mortis ran ahead as they neared the pack lands. Racing across the border, and through the familiar lands of the Armada. Here was the place he had been born, and he knew no other as well as the Armada. He skidded to a stop at the doors to a cellar, and pried them open. Panting from the excursions of the day.

He walked into the cool belly of the earth and past the meats, dried and preserved in different methods. He grabbed a carry sack, and stuffed his favourite portions of meat inside - some honeyed, smoked deer he had helped to cure with Io. A small assortment of fish - they had said they lived by a lagoon, right? Perhaps the fish would be a taste of home for them. Or not, but it was worth a try. Lastly, he grabbed for two leopard coats. The furs softened by soaps, and luxurious to the feel. He rubbed his nose in one, before draping both over his back.

He trotted back out of the celler and closed the doors behind him. Turning, to find Sirius and co already there. With a wag of his tail, and a glance at his dad, he began the traditional questions. “Would you like to pick a premade den, or dig out one or ones of your own?” asked the boy laden with supplies.