Swiftcurrent Creek pont neuf

The answer was: nothing. Although the realization was as painful as it was liberating, Wildfire felt it out with her mind. Her instincts told her to seek the refuge and support of a pack as soon as possible. But spring was well underway and she was a trained small game hunter. The circumstances were far from ideal but there had never been—and probably never would be—a better time to follow her whimsical dream of traveling far and wide.

Her attention snapped back to Renoir, her lungs slowly filling and emptying as he spoke in that strange, lilting tongue. She wanted to tell him that she had traveled alone plenty of times and, yes, it was safe. But she bit her tongue. Could she really say that, after what had happened with Goober? Wildfire felt a little bolt of dread travel from the tips of her nose to the tips of her toes. It was possible something like that could happen again.

"I'm alone, yes," she answered slowly before admitting, "Not sure about safe, though."