Swiftcurrent Creek little puppet made of pine.

Fig smirked at her words, amused. ”I never did find her a bird, though,” he answered with a small smile. She hadn’t ended up needing a helper or a guide, not even the stellar brother she’d been born with. She was a force of her own.

He followed her gaze to the wolverine, feeling oddly colder now that she’d stopped touching him. He listened to her explanation and warmed again as her words touched him. He understood what she meant about it being hard not to help. He would’ve felt the same. ”So it’s not because you saw me and thought ‘look at those chicken legs, he’s gonna get himself killed, poor moron’?” he asked with a grin.

Fig stepped around the wolverine’s body, considering. ”Probably worth finding out,” he answered, looking over at River. He gestured with his muzzle and smiled, inviting her to take the first bite.