Swiftcurrent Creek everything the light touches

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With the adrenaline slowly ebbing from his system, Tryphon had a second or two to settle. He loomed over the dead body of one beaver and began to clean its face, which was odd. It was a tender sort of moment; he bathed it with his tongue, cleaning away blood and sludge which oozed out of its ears and eyes. The warmth of it felt strange on his tongue, especially so because of the season. When the stranger slipped up beside him and gave him a boop with her head, he smiled pleasantly at her — shyness seemingly abated.

I am Tryphon, of Duskvale. He responded hastily, with none of his characteristic lethargy. Rather than feeling morose as he had earlier, Tryphon was riding the high brought upon the two of them by a successful hunt. He would bring at least one of these bundles of meat back to the pack, maybe even present some part of it to Saena as a gift. While the boy didn't know how to skin these rotund carcasses he could at the very least clean part of the skeleton. His tail whisked behind him as Tryphon watched his companion, and he was quick to ask, And you? He could smell no other wolves upon her, so that verified she was alone.

Maybe he could return with her in tow? It was winter and the vale could probably use an extra body.Except, following that thought, the wolf in question did not seem very talkative. They did not respond to his rebuttal, and withdrew quickly — perhaps he had offended them? He was perplexed. With nobody to keep him company, he departed soon after.
 
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