Swiftcurrent Creek preacher's daughter

And so they'd arrived, tiny little @Mae safe within Wren's grasp. Her heart pounds in her chest, a soft bundle of nerves that threaten to throttle her into overdrive. 
@Akavir was perhaps the last person she wanted to see right now, and though not for any fault of his own, the dread churns and twists no less. Perhaps he wouldn't notice, or more likely, maybe he wouldn't ask. 
The pup is at her feet, now, and Wren's stern gaze is burning a hole in the back of her soft little head. She calls for her father with a loud croon. Maybe she could keep this short and sweet.  

When they reached the Creek, Mae took it upon herself to twist out of her packmate's grasp and flop onto the ground below with an indignant huff. She quickly smoothed out her fur when Wren called for Akavir, and drew herself up to what she hoped was a stern and imposing height. Then she took a step forward, placing herself further in front of the woman, and stood in the manner of a grim sentry. Clearly it was up to her to be the responsible one here. Akavir would be so pleased with her.

Or so she thought.

One puppy, two puppy, thr—

Nope. No, Mae was gone. Again. The man released a low groan and corralled the two that actually listened to, once again, poor Shardik.

He began to track her steps—annoyance spurned by worry when he realized her little pawprints were taking her over the borders and away from the safety of her home, when a crooning howl beckoned him from the direction of the creek.

Wren was there—Mae standing quite proudly at the woman’s feet, and his chest flared with both anger and concern as he came to the girl, muzzle bending low to suss out any injury to the little hellion.

The drift of breeze revealed to him Wren was in the prime of her season—and his gaze flashed toward her, studying her, also. Very much not pregnant with a cowboy’s litter.

He found himself at a loss at what to say to her—and so a stern gaze was placed upon his daughter. “Well, Mae… I can’t wait to hear what I assume is a really good reason why you directly disobeyed my orders and went over our pack borders.”

Here we go. 

I believe this belongs to you, with a dry swallow, Wren nudges the little girl towards her father with a gentle paw. It hurts to look him in the eyes, but she tries to. 
She followed me outside of the borders. Tried to tell me I was... sick, and needed to come home. she can't seem to hold back the chuff of laughter, a little shake of her head blowing off some of the lingering annoyance. Shuffling her weight from left to right, she bites down on her lower lip. Anything to dull the emotional pain of embarrassment she was about to feel. 

God, this sucks.
I, um, she gestures to herself with a paw. She was sure he very well already knew what was going on with her body with the look on his face, and the thought of saying it directly to him made her skin crawl. Instead, she shrinks down. well, I'm not pregnant.  

Skippable unless addressed again!

Akavir was not pleased. Mae abruptly remembered the last time he'd been upset with her, and immediately turned sullen. Her ears laid back as Wren trampled right over her with her own explanation, adding insult to injury.

Clearly her input was not needed, so Mae kept quiet. She glared down at the ground, too angry and hurt to look at Akavir. Wren was sick, and stupid besides, yet it was Mae he was cross with! There was no fairness in it.

Mae, with consternation written all over her little features, chose not to answer her fathers very pointed question. It was probably for the best—and Wren spoke as Mae began to glower to the ground, her ears slick to her skull, her sauciness emanating in waves despite the silence she offered them.

‘She tried to tell me I was sick and needed to come home…’

He huffed out a laugh—unable to refrain—before trying to cover this stumble by clearing his throat.

There was little to be said about any of this—the clear embarrassment of them both, the fumbling of words. All Akavir could be grateful for was that Mae hadn’t started stamping her little feet and insisted that Akavir make Wren feel better, given she was ‘sick.’

It was the little things in life to be content with…

“Thank you for bringing her home,” he offered, his tail giving an idle flick as he allowed the discussion of her non-pregnancy to drift away. Nor would he ask her why she had gone outside pack lands—or if she planned on changing her… non-pregnancy status.

“We don’t have much for healers here,” he noted, eyes lifting from his daughter to regard Wren once more. “But… Riverclan has some members that are more knowledgable. If… you’re trying to suppress anything. Or not.”

Damn, Mae, pulling him into this…

Mae had decided to keep her mouth shut, and it made Wren feel a twist of pride. Perhaps she'd learn from this. More likely not, but she could let the false hope live. 
It's no problem, she gives a cool shrug of her shoulders. you've got quite the handful with her, huh? The pouting displayed by the brat brings about a stroke of something akin to pity. She didn't know any better. An awkward pat is given to her shoulder before Wren's attention is back on her leader. 

It's almost a matter of physical strength to hold herself back; the eye contact alone is damn near intoxicating, and enough for warmth to rush to her cheeks. God, he's your alpha, what the fuck? Get a grip!
I think I'm going to, uh, travel for a while, wait it out. Go somewhere she won't waddle after me. There's a nervous twitch to the corner of her eye. Just until it's... gone. But, she swallows hard, an ambiguously suggestive lilt to her voice, a tone that goes right over her own head. I won't be too far, if I'm needed.

She makes a mental note that her first order of business would be to submerge herself in cold water.

Wren spoke of Mae as if the girl wasn’t right in front of them, and Akavir cast his youthful daughter a glance, wondering how she felt on that. Wren wasn’t wrong—the irony of it being that now, the girl had no true she-wolf to look up to in terms of guidance, despite the simple fact they were a pack of primarily women.

He chose not to respond on that comment—perhaps wisely. Mae was a terror with her teeth, after all.

He didn’t realize the struggle she felt in that moment—focused primarily on his own, so at the prospect of her leaving their borders, the Alpha bit back the threat of a growl—knowing full well the indication of what she meant. He might have internalized that thought—but his eyes were intense upon her, studying her—searching.

It was just as well that Mae was here—a reminder of what happened when one divulged into such thoughts.

“Okay, then.” And because that felt cold--he added: "Be safe, yeah?"

Now Wren was not a stupid wolf. Awkward and flighty, and maybe some things went over her head on occasion; but she could read others. And maybe she could read too much of them. 
He doesn't respond to the heat of her loins, but damn near dismisses it. He looks at her with a creased brow and a clenched jaw, and at that, Wren's head quirks in a tilt. He's displeased about something. She feels stupid, small beneath the pale gold of his irises. What was so wrong about travelling, waiting out her season's end? Why does everyone automatically assume she wants children? Or is it that they hope she doesn't? 
She's quiet for a long while, studying him the same way he does to her with a downturned squint. A cold feeling prickles at the back of her neck. Defensiveness is her natural reflex, the urge to shout at him bubbling up in her throat, but instead, she says coolly: You think I'm gonna go find Colt, don't you?

Colt. Red-eyed, arrogant Colt…

Her question was direct—cold, even, and he knew somehow he had offended her. In truth, he hadn’t put too much thought on the man from before aside from being determined to fulfill a promise should the rogue group try to return. “Wren…”

He paused—and then, Mae still nearby, keeping watch on them, the man strode forward, a barely-there growl tracing his tone now as he came closer to her, his voice lowering to keep their conversation between the two of them. “Last I recall, Colt wasn’t someone you wanted to see again.”

Another pause—his muzzle hovering close to her own. “So I’m surprised he’s what comes to your mind now, in this moment.”

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She swallows. Hard, nearly audible as her throat bobs. Gaze narrows as he dares to edge closer, and then the tremors begin. First one, a chill that runs up her forelegs, and then another that lands in the muscles of her shoulder. 
Short, but deep breath.
Oh, c'mon, don't bullshit me, it comes out as a low hiss, one that stings of her own shame. the fact that I knew him was a big hoot when I first got here. You really gonna blame me for assuming that? You look at me like a fuckin' felon when you've hardly even gotten to know me. 
His lips in such close proximity to her own causes a short circuit. With shaky breath and teeth that bite down on her lower lip, she lets out a tiny, shrill whine. The wave of regret was already crashing, and before it was to get any worse, she whispers. I just wanna do what's right by this pack. I just... her head shakes. I want-- I want you to trust me. 

Her hiss of words stirred a rumble in his chest—his only hope that Mae was distracted enough in the moment to not read in to the words and tones conveyed right before her. 

A felon? Or like I can’t trust myself alone with you because of what I would do to you in this very moment of my daughter wasn’t an arms length away? If she wanted blunt—she would receive it. 

His eyes fell upon the way she chewed on her lip—the inhale of breath it stirred from him. The hint of a whine from her lips—a sentiment she shared that he felt perhaps under any other circumstance she wouldn’t have murmured to him. When I say be safe… it’s because this pack needs you, Wren, he offered, his words a hush—holding back that really, he meant she should also be careful from him.

Hope y'all don't mind me popping back in LMFAO

Something weird was going on, and Mae didn't like it. Her lips peeled back briefly, and after a moment of shooting murderous glances between Akavir and Wren, she lunged for one of his forelegs and bit down. That was what she thought of all this strangeness.

Oh. 
She found herself reeling upon hearing those words. Oh, god, she can't help herself. She melts beneath him, a puddle of heat that is desperate to crawl beneath his skin and stay there.
It's then that she closes the distance between them, tucking her face into the crux of his jaw. I'll be back in a week, she coos, every word dripping with longing. Longing that they both surely knew was a toxin. She doesn't want kids. She wants him. She doesn't care. This could ruin her life. Oh, god, she wants him. 
Teeth graze against a hardened cheek, followed by a bellowing growl; but not one of malice. I'm going to be heading through the Sunspires and toward the flatlands. If you change your mind, come find me. 

And of course, it's then that she can hear the snap of tiny jaws and puppy growls, scratchy and high-pitched. Because there's never a moment of peace. 
She exhales, peeling herself from Akavir's side and casting a glance over her shoulder as she takes her leave. And if she asks, tell her I'm going to... visit a healer. Her tail falls above her hips, a sway to them. See you later.  

A tipping point had been found—the nestle of her face at the crook of his jawline allowed him to tilt ever so slightly to her, her scent enveloping him once more. Her words—a tone she had never graced upon him yet, and he knows it means nothing more to her than the season they found themselves in—

—and the invitation she places before him as his eyes narrowing, the pinch of teeth as they graze his cheek.

He was pretty sure the last thing she wanted was for him to actually seek her out—she hadn’t said as much, but from their initial meeting and the words spoken of Mae, Akavir didn’t quite feel a desire for kids coming from the woman before him.

Wait the season out… It would be over soon.

Mae, however, was a douse of cold water to the entire situation. Affronted, it seemed, the girl’s sharp teeth found his forelimb, drawing a grunt from the man as he glanced down at the girl, a rumble of his displeasure given.

Before he could reprimand her—there were other ways to get his attention, weren’t there?—Wren was bidding them goodbye—his eyes lifting to catch the sway of her hips. Mouth dry, he chuffed quietly, tearing his gaze away to look at his daughter. “Let’s go for a swim at the creek, yeah?”