Swiftcurrent Creek the aftermath

It was a quiet companionship for the moment—something Akavir could appreciate, given he found himself less of a conversationalist than he used to be in his more youthful days. She called to him softly again after moments, and looking back once more, he noted with instinctual pleasure that she was indeed eating—the feathers of the bird scattered before her.

His eyes followed her gesture—his brows arching. Pulling back from the beginning of what he hoped would be a cozy den for her, the dark wolf stalked carefully to her, eyes drifting from the myriad of feathers to study her features, his muzzle tipping down to gently graze at her cheek. “Whatever you wish for you and them, I’ll do my best,” he offered in turn—if she wanted the softest of beds to rest upon, he would find a way to do so.