Swiftcurrent Creek little puppet made of pine.

She claimed to be alright, though Fig noted something odd in her regard of him. It was there for only a moment, but it was enough to bring a new layer to his concern. Was she upset with him? Did she feel he had forced her into this endeavor? He’d given her every chance to leave, but perhaps he had still misstepped somehow, and now she had an injury to remind her of her resentment towards him.

The thought was inexplicably crushing. But it was gone from his mind at her next words and at her touch, the latter of which sent a jolt through his bloodstream. He held still for a moment, but then accepted her actions as an invitation for his own. He nose danced lightly along her neck, inspecting her for wounds just as she did him. He leaned back after a moment to take another look at her, his eyes falling on the blood that stained her hip.

”My family is trying to claim territory North of here,” Fig explained, ”I’ve been catching its scent here and there for a while. I kept thinking it was gone, but it kept coming back. My sister may have another litter in the Spring. They wouldn’t be safe with that creature around.” Fig eyed the dead wolverine with a mix of pity and guilt. Had it never come back, it never would’ve needed to die. He did not regret the decision, only that circumstance had forced him to make it.


He turned his gaze back to River thoughtfully. ”Why did you decide to get involved?” he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him, ”Not that I’m ungrateful. I’d probably be down to only three legs if it weren’t for you.” He smiled a little, but his eyes were pensive.