Swiftcurrent Creek People Talking Without Speaking

Dunking his head fully under, Akavir held his breath for a stolen moment, eyes squeezed tight, replaying the last week in his head. It hadn’t been ideal. He needed to do better.

Resurfacing, he barked out a laugh as the others words reached him, beginning to wake back to the waters edge and back up to the banks of the creek. “Great! Not dying is exactly my goal in life,” he offered back, lips quirking at the corners with a small grin.

Ensuring the distance remained between the two, the dark wolf took a moment to shake the water from himself, gritting his teeth once more at the stiffness of his joints and the stabbing pain of his wounds.

When the ‘occasional healer’ asked him about a pack, he gave a shrug of his broad shoulders. “Sure. Here.” He paused then, slowly settling back to his haunches to take a rest. “I mean, I’m a pack of one for now, but I’m looking to expand.” He then gave a nod to the direction of the stone circle. “Over that way is a pack that seems amicable enough, also. That one is actually established. Kvarsheim, I think they called themselves.”