Lost Creek Hollow Bluegill

The cold was biting and relentless.

Swordfish had gathered himself to patrol the border of the creek before he had diverted his path and ventured toward darkened trees. The hollow was unknown to him. He paused outside their borders and peered with a heavy-lidded stare – into the trees and the darkness. It would have been a tempting place to seek the quiet, had it not been marked by wolves.

Sniffing near the border, the lean redtail wondered what kind of pack lived in this land, so close to the creek. Akavir had been stern, though his words were laced with kindness. The woman had been intimidating. The hollow where he stood smelled as though it was claimed by a smaller group.

Swordfish drew nearer but did not dare to cross the marked portions of the land.