Firefly Glen spring in your step

Cypress’ ears flattened, both at the stern frown and the bitterness that laced Charon’s reply. He was quiet for a long moment before he responded; he wanted to convey to the gray-flecked male that he was serious about his proposition. The raven hadn’t talked it over with his brothers, but he was sure that Rannoch and Rian would agree with him — especially since Charon had known Eshe and retained such a good opinion of her. Any friend of his mother’s was a friend of Cypress’ and he naturally carried that over to the turquoise-eyed alpha and the jade-eyed beta as well. “I don’t want to disappoint you,” he said frankly, “and I don’t mean any disrespect, but…pretty much, yeah. That’s what I meant.” He had a healthy amount of respect for the Ostrega patriarch, and part of that respect meant sticking to his guns.

“Right now, we wouldn’t be much use to you if you were attacked,” the eldest Frostfur admitted in a low baritenor, keeping his carriage lower than the other male’s but trying to exude confidence and competence by not flinching or cowering. For this reason and not one of insubordination, he hesitantly raised his eyes to the Moonspear alpha’s. “I could keep you up to date, though,” he offered, “and we want to live here in the Teekons — just…not so close to here.” He gestured with his muzzle to the knot of territory nestled between three packs. “If Rannoch wanted to go further away I’d come and tell you about it, if you wanted.” He went on, “It doesn’t have to be an alliance, but it’d be good to be friends, anyway. We could spar and hunt with your daughters and tell you if we see anything weird while we’re traveling.” Aware that he was talking maybe too much, Cypress shut his mouth.

And then he opened it again. “It was just an idea,” he concluded quietly.