Swiftcurrent Creek People Talking Without Speaking

Pitch black—the rogue glanced his way finally, taking him in with a certain silence before offering a hesitant greeting. Akavir paused in his own stance, then, dropped his muzzle lightly to a silent greeting, feeling the tautness of his muscles, though he suppressed the grimace on his face. “Lo,” he offered in return, feeling rather informal as he stank of poultice, blood and herbs.

Probably lots of sweat, too. Yeah, he felt like a real winner right now.

“Akavir Frostfur-Mayfair,” he offered in return, giving a nod to the rushing creek rapids. “Mind if I come down?”