Swiftcurrent Creek it was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles

@Rannoch - set after first thread. Backdated a short time just like the previous one. 

 

Once out of the wood, the sun had risen overhead, and the two males were near to each other, if not a few yards away. Bronte watched as the male Rannoch trailed ahead; he knew they were related somewhere along the line, but he was far more pleased that he might have accidentally stumbled upon a familiar figure than he was worried. The swarthy young man only wished Coelho would have hurried herself along. Casting a glance over his shoulder for signs of her, Bronte heaved a soft sigh that caused his broad shoulders to lax. Turning back to face the west, the young bear drew in the air and thought on the scents around them. It was a strange new world. He was far away from home, yet something told him he had found a good substitute.
 
Once more, he glanced over his shoulder in search of the coywolf female and her lithe frame. Bronte had expected to see her trouncing along after them with a salmon-colored tongue lolling from the side of her mouth. Coelho was still nowhere to be found. Opting not to worry about her, Bronte glanced to the sky to see thick grey clouds and the promise of another cold storm.