Swiftcurrent Creek it was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles

The question struck him and the dark young wolf splayed his ears atop his crown for a moment before offering Rannoch a busy, “mhmm.” It was not that he wasn’t grateful for the interest shown by the young Alpha, but that he caught wind of another. Bronte wanted to know if it was her, but the form that puttered into view was not the slight shape of Coelho. The dark young man bristled at the appearance of the strange woman before she seemed to take less interest in them and found a way to exit. The scent of other wolves was stronger there; he wanted to make his way through and keep moving on the other side before they were met with anyone else.
 
“Looking for someone,” Bronte elaborated to the slate-cloaked male. He offered a gruff smile before shrugging and pushing them forward. All the while, the umber in his eyes did not leave where She-Ra had disappeared from; the young DeMonte did not want to find her at his rear.