Swiftcurrent Creek Out in the garden

An ear twitched at the name - mistaking it for mauler - and stifling a swallow. Something about the male made her nervous though even she wasn't quite aware of it - likely it was nothing more than the fact that he was so stern. 

No answer was needed. So she gave none. Only the spirits answered - whispering through the trees, singing through the birds, mumbling through the bubbling of the Creek. 

Surpise flashed in herthe silvery orbs and she nodded in immediate response, hurriedly burying her fish and marking the mound of dirt with a small black stone for fear Mauler would leave her behind.