Swiftcurrent Creek color me badd

I'm fading out here! More threads always!

Perhaps the most amusing part of this whole scenario was that Cutthroat would be gone in a few days time, so Fox would never have the need to tell him to move his bed elsewhere. Instead, the yearling leader would label him as a traitor and assume that he went back to report to Tortuga. Whatever promises of loyalty he had made to the creek would be shattered the moment Fox realized he was no longer there, and she would inform her wolves to attack him on sight. But all of this would be in the future, not now.

As Haunter crept around and made his presence more permanent here, she smiled faintly. She could not deny that having him back felt positively good. She struggled to keep her mind in the present, thinking far ahead to a time when Haunter would lead by her side and their children would run around at their feet. It was strange, this feeling, and she wondered if it was that mystical thing that others spoke of so often. She would allow herself to even think it. Infatuation was a much better word, and she settled on it just as Haunter gave his satisfactory sigh.

She stepped toward him, and then she fell into the space between is front and back legs (like a little spoon!). As she stared idly at his front paws on the ground, she wondered where these next few months would take her them.