Swiftcurrent Creek But in a much more real sense, I had no idea what to do.

Weary, certainly, it was the bone deep fatigue that truly hindered the shadow. He partially expected the renegade group to come back for another round—worried about it, for he felt disgusted at the prospect of Arric or even Lestan now being hurt further by their stubborn and malicious ways. 

Was the creek worth it? 

No. 

So why did they stay?

Champagne eyes bore down to a scarred face, the wounds healing with scabs and the promise of scarring. Long gone was the youthful Akavir who had fell in love with a goddess of a wolf and had followed her blindly. Now, fangs sought purchase on any flesh that date cross him, and his cause meant everything and yet nothing all at once. 

Life had far surpassed convoluted. 

So when the scent of another teased at his nostrils, the stocky Mayfair bristled, ire in his eyes as they sought the next assumed opposer of his claim. A howl resounded, and in turn, his own beckoned the other further—already knowing if this one announced themself they did not run with the tag tag group that was haunting them.

And his own legs struck closer, looking to close the distance.