Swiftcurrent Creek The roaring seas and many a dark range of mountains lie between us.

He had returned from the outskirts of the pack lands, his brows furrowed lightly, though otherwise pensive. He was keeping track of a certain herd—he disliked the movement they presented now, and vaguely wondered if they would leave the Rising Sun Valley.

Such was life—the comings and goings of their resources, but with winter upon them, he disliked the potential of less.

The soft crunch of snow drew his eyes upward—the large form of the newcomer in his view. Akavir studied him a moment, stilling his movement for a moment only before loping forward, assessing. “Welcome to the creek,” he offered as he came nearer.