Swiftcurrent Creek it was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles

Lovely, he thought with a small smile. It was accurate, for all that he could tell. Coelho was a peculiar and fairy-like creature. Bronte had never met another like her. Instead of agreeing with Rannoch until they spiraled themselves into an endless circle, the dark bear continued on their trek to move through the river as quickly as they could. His nose was fixed on the mountain that Rannoch had claimed, but they had a short way to travel yet. The next question struck him as being peculiar, but he supposed it was necessary to know what kind of rabble would be allowed in the ranks of his pack. Bronte nodded his head with a confident curling of his lip. “She will do great things for your pack, I’m certain of it,” he confirmed. Of course, he could never truly tell how Coelho would behave herself, but she had only ever been a good friend to him, so he didn’t imagine she could cause much trouble for the Sunspire wolves.