I've been looking forward to using this title for days. 
For some reason, it makes me laugh every time I see it. Sorry for the monster post.
Contrary to what Ambrose had expected, the trip to Cercatori D'Arte had taken all day, rather than just the few hours a fellow traveler had told him it would take. By the time he did reach the area close to the pack of artists, night had fallen yet again, and the terrier was starting to regret not having brought any thicker clothing with him when he first came to Nova Scotia. Sitting himself down near the borders again, he started to think about what his plan would be. After encountering two different packs, he was beginning to get a feel for the border etiquette here. This was not something he had ever really had to think about before, as the port cities he was accustomed to put less focus on single pack identities and more on the trade opportunities provided by the mixing of many different packs, tribes, nations... He had seen so many different kinds of organization, very little surprised him anymore.
As he sat, Ambrose found himself wondering what kind of organization would appeal to a pack of artists, as he had heard this pack was. Certainly, he thought, they would place a heavy emphasis on individual talent, and he realized that perhaps having some sort of gift would improve his chances of being granted an interview with a pack member. Perhaps he could even trade the gift for a warm cloak to keep him warm on his journey around the peninsula... Assuming that he did not decide to settle with this pack, of course. His decision would rest on the information he would soon discover.
After some time of looking through his belongings, Ambrose pulled out an old piece of scrimshaw he had started a few weeks ago. He examined the bone carefully, considering the etching on its surface, then nodded and held the small piece of artwork in his hand. He was not exactly an artist, but he did know how to draw ships, and the one etched into the bone's surface was one that he felt proud enough of to trade in port. This was not exactly a port city, but perhaps he could still manage to exchange the scrimshaw piece for some information, rations, and a bit of warm clothing.
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