Swiftcurrent Creek Balmora

Phoenix sought out the den of Swiftcurrent's matriarch with a tight, apprehensive plod. He was nervous approaching the place she housed her children, but if he wanted the alpha pair to continue considering him useful, then he'd need to show his face. In his jaws he ferried a partially eaten weasel— meager, by spring's standards, but it was better than nothing he thought. He hadn't meant to swallow that bite of it, after all.

When he arrived, he stood back so far that the denmouth was barely visible from where he stood. He perked up at a flicker of movement there in the shadows, but what he had hoped was Durnehviir emerging, was instead the fluffs of two infantile boys at play. With a hushed whine, Phoenix swallowed back his natural anxiety of coming near a stranger's children, and he edged forward until he could place the offering a few feet outside the den.

Dropping the mangled corpse, he trotted back several feet, and then turned from the treeline to watch what would happen next.