Swiftcurrent Creek Fresh cut grass, one cold beer

:3

Jinx told him that the creatures did not come because of him, and that furthermore Tark did not die because of him but he could only see the ways in which they had, believing as futilely as he did in the existence of his “curse”. Yet, he did not say these things to Jinx instead mustering a nod as if to say that her words made sense. In a way, they did, but in a way he denied them whether it was out of familiarity of the “curse” or fear of it. “Maybe,” Ira murmured in contemplation to her suggestion, coming to the eventual conclusion that it might prove to be worth something if he pretended to act like a saint as opposed to letting the (supposed) “real” him show through. As any child, and further more as an insolent child wanted to do, he felt the urge to argue with her, to make her see that it had, indeed, affected her - though bid his tongue if only because it was a waste of his breath and her confirmation that she cared had, admittedly, taken the Princeling off his guard. She cared? She cared. About him.

Ira tucked that away to examine at a later date, instead focusing upon her following words. He was not to tell Fox where she had gone, nor of his intentions if the fire kissed Alpha were to approach him in Jinx’s absence. “I won’t tell a soul,” He promised her fiercely, making his insolence suddenly seem like a good thing. He could tell those that might approach him to get lost, that he didn’t know anything in the rudest way possible and he would probably be believed because he was always rude. When they began to walk once more, Ira followed beside Jinx closely, feeling that while he still wore his curse like a weight had been lifted, nevertheless, coveting their newly minted secret to himself.