Swiftcurrent Creek something has to happen

the gratitude that panther feels as easy accompanies him to the borders of the pack whose name was unknown to his void of a memory was immeasurable. admittedly, this would ( hopefully ) go a whole lot smoother with her help. though panther supposes its high time he tried using his voice, dormant as its been during his recovery he isn't so sure that his vocal chords will work the way they're supposed to. ...if they worked at all. not to mention his amnesia which appears to be rather persistent leaves him with a giant question mark on what skills he could offer them. fighting, perhaps if his scars and the fact that the other guy had ended up worse than him was of any indication.

though in all fairness he wasn't so sure that easy would be able to answer those questions either. from what she's spoken about their time together before it sounds as if whoever he was before wasn't overly forthcoming. easy speaks then, telling him that she has family here and panther hopes that this means that this will not be the last they see of the other. at her teasing question, panther gives her a devilish, toothy grin and a wink moments before the sound of approaching footfalls draws panther's attention with a cup of his ears, attentive, atop the proud crown of his skull and a shift of his body posture.

he's cautious by nature by knows the rules of etiquette at another man's borders and forces his body posture into one of neutrality and business-like respect. the ebony man that approaches from within the territory introduces himself as kavik and reiterates what panther had assumed from his body language upon arrival: that he was ( one of ) the alpha(s). the muscles in panther's cheek work as he contemplates the best course of action: trying out his vocal chords or letting easy do the speaking for him.

she would not follow him to the pack and eventually he would have to find his voice. a — at first it sounds more like a ragged draw of breath than a letter. a rasping, rattling noise like bones grating unattractively against each other. he tries again. a home. the smoky reticence of his voice is still very raw and yet lacking the rich baritone it'd once held; little more than a rumbling growl of a whisper. regardless, a man should be able to speak for himself regardless of how much of a struggle those two simple words were.