Swiftcurrent Creek 'Cause I told you my level of concern

Hurried steps brought him far from the desert, back to a familiar valley. Panacea didn't want to remember when he had been here last, or how, or why. So he pushed it from his thoughts and instead filled them with what stood before him: a pack.

He stood, deer in the headlights, for several long moments. A twig snapped somewhere among the trees. Panacea stumbled back several steps with a sharp breath, startled.

The scent of the other drew him to the borders—but he came from the side that was not the creek. A quick scour of the outside of their borders—the incessant need to stay busy. To stay busy…

To not think.

To not think…

To not feel.

A snap of something in the woods that graced the creek had the stranger drifting back—the Alpha recognizing the nervousness that filtered off the form of the other.

He sauntered forward—a wraith among the shadows, until he was closer from behind the other, clearing his throat with a low croon to garner the lone wolf’s attention.

What he did not expect was an approach from behind. A yelp burst from him as he flinched in the opposite direction now, stumbling a bit even as he dropped to a submissive crouch with ears pinned and tail firmly tucked. Even in his panic, Panacea recognized the pack scent wreathing the man — and the way the dark wolf towered over him even from a distance.

Sorry! Sorry, I... His blue eyes were unfocused for a moment upon the man, a clouded mess of fear and confusion. I meant to call... Panacea trailed off. His eyes widened slightly as he fully took in the sight of the stranger: a man who appeared fully capable of ending Panacea with a single lazy snap of heavy jaws if the urge struck him. Shit.

A yelp that drew his ears forward—but he did not follow after the youthful wolf who recoiled in surprise and panic. His eyes swept over the slender form of the rogue, falling intently upon bright blue eyes—shifting his weight as the other stammered an apology.

“I often wonder what it is about pack borders that make so many nervous,” he murmured—storm-cloaked figure drifting past the other now to move closer to his home and territory—another wavering glance given, waiting if any insight would be shed on such curiosity.

His ears were ringing. He thought he heard a child's cries under the sound — so he tried not to listen too closely. Bad experiences? Panacea supplied a little numbly in automatic response, picking himself up a bit reluctantly. Maybe he wouldn't become crowfood today after all.

That's my excuse, at least, He studied the dark wolf more boldly now. I've never actually been part of a pack before. Not truly. Blackwater didn't count, Panacea thought, and Sunfil Grove... he'd never really called that place home. Now he never would.

The child's cries went on, only for his ears.

He allowed the youthful wolf to recover—the answer he given remaining vague in many ways. Still—he wasn’t about to pry into the other’s business… at least not yet. “You’re a survivor, then,” he concluded, sweeping to recline, gaze still held with scrutiny on the other. Soon, the autumn leaves would erupt in the same fiery hues.

And then, the world would turn white.

“Akavir, of Swiftcurrent Creek,” he introduced.

A survivor. That was what he told himself sometimes, late into sleepless nights when the only thing he could hear was those wails. Panacea managed a faint, grateful smile for that, though it was fleeting.

Akavir of Swiftcurrent Creek.

Maybe this wasn't such a bad place to have ended up.

Panacea, He introduced, hesitating briefly over Vael before he left it out altogether. That was Elias's family more than his own. Grateful as he was to know that his brother had found a place to call home, Panacea still felt adrift.

Does Swiftcurrent Creek have room for another hunter? Few packs ever really declined such an offer, he'd found. And he could at least promise to hunt. He wasn't sure what else he had left to give.

The fiery wolf seemed respectable enough—an introduction of name, and a request to join with the offer as a hunter. Swiftcurrent Creek almost had one pup per adult in their ratio from the past season—not a number he and Arric had considered would happen, and yet here they were—expanding, and yet still with so many hungry mouths to feed.

“Another hunter is always appreciated,” was the reply given, a light cant of his muzzle given as he assessed the other. “There were more pups born to us this year than we had thought would happen—saying that, we have a number of skilled wolves among us… healers, guardians, hunters, scouts…”

It seemed simpler than it should have been. In a moment he went from never been part of a pack to pack wolf; Panacea of Swiftcurrent Creek. It was difficult not to feel overwhelmed, perhaps even intimidated by Akavir's introduction of the pack. Pups. Skilled wolves.

Pups.

Somehow he kept his composure, nodding as Akavir went on. I'll help wherever I can, He murmured. No need to mention the past. The skills he'd boasted then wouldn't serve him now. He had a feeling that boasting wouldn't get him far with Akavir, anyway; this wasn't like the thieving groups he'd run with in his youth. Maybe that was a good thing.