Swiftcurrent Creek I got my fists on the kitchen table

Her words stirred a small chuckle from him—so carefree, he wondered vaguely what she had been up to the months prior. But he sobered quickly, eyes studying her, ensuring she had arrived in one piece—Durnehviir would have his hide should something have happened to one of her daughters.

A shoulder bump to his and he thought of their family, giving a gentle shake of his muzzle. “Well, you can tell them this is it. The creek has been established, just as dad wanted—but listen, we’ve had some trouble with a group of other wolves… So, yeah, I’m not overly fond of the idea of you traveling,” he countered, his muzzle bending down to nudge at her, coaxing her into the territory. “So is this a visit to report back to the ol’ parental unit on what’s happening here, or are you planning to stay for a time? ‘Cause I can’t let you stay if you don’t promise not to throw yourself into a bunch of fights.”

Because the idea of Eislyn getting involved with that corrupted crowd of wolves was not something he could let happen.