Swiftcurrent Creek I got my fists on the kitchen table

He would recognize the voice of his sister anywhere—and his paws were nimble for a stocky wolf, barreling upon her as any big brother rightfully should—like a bat out of hell to her side, a grin on his face and looking to barrel into her with a welcoming hug, should she not evade him.

He pulled back, an appraising eye of concern and pride given to her as he suddenly realized his little sister just really wasn’t little any longer—and then worry, given their issues with stabilizing the creek. “What’re you doing wandering in winter?”