Qeya River D for effort

Maybe someone from Riverclan? but open to all :)

As a dog might sense an earthquake, Gavrel was not oblivious to the seismic shifts in atmosphere. First, the encounter with the silver woman, and her cadre of asylum-seekers. Then, the call at the border -- which had meant little to him, but had seen the rest of the pack tensed and uncertain.

The Rise was riddled with histories. He, an interloper, could only draw brittle, inaccurate conclusions from what evidence there was.

He recalled the burnt heart of the forest, its hidden layer of ash. It was a chronology he could touch and rub between his fingers, but remained fundamentally unknown to him.

What had Silvertongue meant by witches? And if his divination of that contentious word were true, what could it mean for the Rise?

He trusted Redd's judgement above all, but doubt was not what drove him towards the river. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

The entirety of it all seemed foolish to the yearling—Wren had swept them North in a whirlwind with a tale of danger… It was obvious she had been terrified—but it had also been obvious to the youth that the danger was tied to her, and her family… Acantha hadn’t been fully on board leaving the hollow behind and taking her younger siblings out into a world and place they had known nothing about—hadn’t scouted ahead. Hadn’t determined anything.

Yet here they were.

But they were making the best of it. The day found Acantha trailing along what the proposed borders would be—stopping every so often to leave a scent marker. The warmth of spring beckoned her—the stretch of her legs a welcome change from being nestled close to the den and by her younger siblings.

If chance had it, she could find a bone or something to bring back for them to play with.

What she hadn’t expected was the sight of pallid cream against the horizon—a stranger. Acantha wasn’t much of a guardian—her willowy frame certainly wouldn’t hold well in a battle against him—but she also wasn’t about to leave an unknown man unchecked.

Drifting forward, her cerulean eyes skimmed over him, question brimming in her gaze. “Can I help you?”

Tysm for scooping this up :D

Out of nowhere he was overcome with anxiety. What if he was treading beyond their borders? There was no way to tell if the ground he was standing on right now was in fact the heart of their territory, that just by being here, he was throwing a wrench into their budding inter-pack relation.

The girl and her question genuinely startled him. Words swam around his mouth like fish; just as suddenly, they disappeared as a school does when confronted with the looming silhouette of a shark.

Hey, he managed. You are -- are you from Riverclan?

I dunno if... if Silvertongue mentioned us to you yet. We're sort of neighbors, I guess.

He caught himself. Redtail Rise, I mean.

There was a spare beauty to the minimal language of the Rise, a finesse he hadn't quite acquired. He existed uncertainly in the vast expanse between his former bludgeoning verbosity and his pack's wordless argot.

Pfft. I was excited to scoop up one of your threads!

‘Sort of’ neighbors. She wasn’t sure what that meant—but the mention of Silvertongue was enough to curb her from questioning it further. She also wasn’t entirely sure how to answer his question—were they still calling themselves Riverclan?

There was still a river. Seemed logical?

Withholding a gentle chuff at her absolute lack of knowledge and usefulness, the mottled youth instead did what only one could do in a situation where presented with when your cohorts were trying to stake a new claim and a neighborly stranger came waltzing around your borders.

You faked it until you made it. Or something similar.

“Yep.” A pause, her bright eyes studying him momentarily—the burns on his face nothing she had seen before, but also nothing she would allow her gaze to linger too long upon. She wasn’t that rude, right? “Are you like… the welcome wagon, then?”

Yay! <3

The girl, for all her youth, was a total miser with her words and mannerisms. It reminded him of the Rise wolves; this of course immediately endeared her to him.

Why, you disappointed? He flashed her a winning smile, distorted somewhat by the scar. Sorry if you were expecting more.

I'm Gavrel. Silvertongue mentioned that you guys had healers?

And witches, the little voice in his head unhelpfully tacked on. But there was no way Gavrel was going to follow that line of inquiry just yet. This girl already had a grasp on a certain brand of cool whereas he was a born excommunicant of style. But she could divine this herself -- there was no need for him to shoot himself in the foot and scream about it.

He teased at her—lightening the apprehension slightly from her shoulders, she flashed a small smirk, a wolfish brow arching at his apology. “Snacks are a customary offering, from where we're from,” she fibbed—glib and unapologetic before giving a gentle shake of her muzzle to let him know she truly wasn’t serious.

“Acantha,” she offered in return, though the mention of Silvertongue stirred an ear to idly flick. “We do. Are you here to bum a favor already?” Again—her tone was light—her eyes drifting over him in consideration.