Swiftcurrent Creek frog

upon her belly did muskrat lay, flipping fish onto the bank of the rushing white water.

her leg hurt. her body ached. but the omega had claimed three flopping bodies from the current.

tunelessly she hummed, yellow eyes piercing through the ripples for another, a fourth. muskrat meant to add them to a cache and chase a nap when she had finished.

Pale eyes studied her from afar—withholding the deep rumble in his chest. She lay stretched out—like a leisurely cat in the sun, soaking up its warmth. The cat who had stolen the cream and still received a warm bed at the end of it all.

He trusted the thief as far as he could throw her—so why had it bothered him so much to send an injured wolf back out to the harsher realities of rogue life who had not only raided them, but aimed to main on top of it all?

He was almost surprised Mae hadn’t attempted retribution yet—and quietly relieved. His daughter was in no capacity to fight.

Three fish flopped next to her—weakening as the life was slowly ebbed from them.

For a moment, he could relate more to the slowly dying fish than he cared to admit.

"tuta runa." the watchful lemon eyes turned toward the dark pelt of the warrior who had subdued her. it amused muskrat to know that by all rights, she belonged to him; it amused her to understand this while he did not seem to realize.

she flung a calloused paw dramatically toward the stilled fish. "for you. or i give arlette. have baby soon." she did not yet truly look at akavir, not with more than her wary peripherals.

Tuta runa, she called him.

He was still convinced it was something profane—he had that effect on most women, it seemed. A motion to the fish—the flopping fish, so much like his life, it seemed—and then the mention of Arlette, which drew the man’s hackles, lightly.

But she offered to feed the pregnant she-wolf—and so he tamed his guttural reaction. “Arlette,” he agreed. “She’s feeding our future.”

He made no move to come closer. For now, his own nose tipped up to the sun—eyes closing—the warmth of the day doing little to stave his dour mood.

that same cloud clung to the night man. muskrat wondered if its presence was permanent. but she too was silent, basking beneath the same warmth as she considered what her life after this might be, once she had served her debt.

there was another man whose closeness to the plantwolf made it clear that akavir was not involved in this pregnancy. he had no wife that she could see.

perhaps he was a holy man. they often fasted and swore off the pleasures of women, sometimes for an entire lifetime.

If Akavir were a smart man, he would abstain indefinitely. There was nothing holy about the dark wolf who’s pale champagne eyes roved over the swell of the female’s hip—particularly when his thoughts lingered on a woman with sharp cerulean eyes that he could never have.

If the riverclan wolf had been ice, this one was fire.

His gaze drifted down to the injured limb—quietly studying—still not speaking. The Omega knew Arlette’s name—that indicated to him she had sought the medical attention he had asked of her.

He was still waiting for Arric or Mae to question him on why he had let a time bomb within their ranks.

He still didn't have an answer.

his eyes were upon her, the awqalli knew, and not in the manner of one appraising an enemy. she knew the look; she had answered it before. the society of warriors among the swamp panther clans were often gone for a moon or longer on their raids. you learned to take all confidence, all strength, and all pleasure from those around you, appreciative of each moment together. not everyone returned from their battles.

muskrat waited for the night man to look up, meeting his the scrutiny of his golden eyes with calm acceptance, even encouragement spiced by more than a little interest. being a slave in a creek camp had turned out to be little more than cool treatment. she did not fear him, and the lack of fear fed intrigue of how else he might surprise her.

His gaze lingered back up toward her face—her eyes fast upon him, knowing and daring.

Fire and poison, he decided then.

The smart thing to do would be to remove himself from the situation entirely—benefits of such antics had led him to nothing but heartache in a multitude of ways.

Wordless and soundlessly, he stalked toward the creek edge, near to her. His gaze did not linger on her now, instead, focused upon the waters that rushed past—never still. Chaotic in motion.

Yet another symbol in life.

“I’ll help you carry these to Arlette.”

Because if he lingered longer, he held a belief they would both become victim to something else entirely—and he could already hear the devil on his shoulder sneering his encouragement.

The angel on his shoulder? Well, she was now gone to the taiga.

muskrat was amused, a small curl to her lip announcing this in a brief glimpse. but in the next she had moved to cut reedgrass from the creekside, wrapping a bundle of two fish and another of one.

she grabbed the first and indicated she would go where akavir led, interested still at his self control and why he should exercise it for a slave, an enemy at that.

but muskrat said no more. later she would replay this in her mind, his expression, his pause, the tone of his voice, and find herself amused over again.

Amusement curled her lip up—that same fire simmering in her gaze as she brazenly stared at him—as if daring him. She knew his thoughts—clearly, she had been with another before. His jaw set, he felt his own darkening smirk barely pull at the corner of his lips. “Tha thu na dhuilgheadas, tha fios agam air.”

Gruffly, he took the proffered bundle of fish, quietly impressed in the manner of her packaging it for their healer.

One last skimming glance—he set off in the direction of the garden, where he assumed Arlette would be.