Swiftcurrent Creek It's difficult to say what's luck and what's not.

On the border!

The scent of freshwater tangled with that of many wolves in this area, and so there was a certain kind of trepidation to the dark woman's movement. She wasn't afraid, not exactly that, but she knew to be cautious and alert.
The snap of a branch overhead made her pause and lift her attention higher, witnessing a flicker of movement as a dappled bird zipped away. There followed a distant chirrup and then silence, but the woman remained wary.
It felt too quiet for the time being.
After a few beats of her heart, she settled back upon her haunches; then bowed, taking in the scents along the earth again.

Moss’s death was akin to a storm cloud that hung over the creek. Akavir worked along the borders, noting that the scent of their fallen packmate became more stale with each passing day—knowing that soon, it would simply vanish altogether… as if she hadn’t been here at all.

It was surreal—and it left him with the bitter taste of grief in his mouth.

When his eyes fell upon the form of a dark wolf testing the scents upon the ground, he found himself bristling lightly—uttering a chuff that bordered a growl as he moved closer, though he tried to force some of the tension from his shoulders as he neared the stranger.

It would do no good to take his ire out on an innocent bystander.

“Can I help you?”

There were scant notes of blood along the path; old, dry, almost washed away, but there. She'd recognize it anywhere.
The man that approached from deeper among the trees and wolf-scent told her much, when she caught him in her eye. He was rugged and stern, and about her own age, with a worn sort of confidence.
Heavy weighs the crown? She thought.
More overtly, she answered: Maybe I could help yew. Cue a smile.
The name's Aamek. Been travelin'a while, and yers is the first homestead I've seen in weeks. What deal would it take for a night of rest? Bite ta eat? Maybe swap some stories?
Her tail sways, and aside from the softening of her posture to give the impression of submission, there is a lot to be decrypted about this woman.

Worn, but certainly tethered, he remained. For a rogue, she remained in good health, it seemed, and under other circumstances, he might have considered the beginning of a barter with the dark stranger. He wasn't above hospitality when the situation was warranted. Her timing couldn't have been worse, though.

“Well, Aamek… No deal, sorry. The Creek is locked down right now to visitors.” And that was all he would speak of it—their matters were their own, and he didn’t feel the need to explain further to a wolf who was only looking for a safe haven for only a night.

“If you continue around our claim, further into the valley, our allies might be able to assist your needs better.”

Ears cupped forward, his form straightened—clear in his mannerism that the conversation should end here. He had an injured gamma to tend to, a daughter that had fled to another pack and a newborn to find milk for.

Locked down?
Curious.
She tilts her head slightly and the tempo of her wagging tail slows, then stops. May I ask -- if there is danger around, I'd 'ppreciate a heads up. Her nostrils flared slightly, taking in scents and thinking.
Yer sure there's nothin' I'ken trade to yew? I've a proclivity fer being a jack o' all trades. At my age, makes sense to dabble.

She had a feeling this was going nowhere, but the woman wasn't ready to give up yet. There was always another angle.

She was eager for a place to rest—or, simply looking to entertain herself with a tidbit of what was occurring at the creek.

“Nothing that would be a danger to you,” he offered to her, eyes gleaming a she studied her—again, not divulging much information either way. “We’ve no need for anything right now. We’re not looking to host a stranger for a night or two.”

He paused, tongue sweeping over his lips—not truly caring whether he was rude or not, and yet reiterating: “The valley is generally a safer place to be, most of the time. You’ll have better luck further in.”

With those final words, the man waited until the rogue was clear of their home--gaze stern, unmoving.