Swiftcurrent Creek It's just movement

Akavir was a shadow stalking along the quiet of the wintered grounds. Restless in certain ways, he was eager for the snows to begin to melt—for the thaw to come and to make plans accordingly—primarily, with his goal of finding this place called Akashingo.

For now, his attention was drawn by the silver wolf who called at their borders, and he swept forward, his stocky presence commanding to be noticed as his pale champagne eyes swept over the other—unable to decipher anything from their expression. “Welcome,” he offered in a low rumble, prowling closer now, his nose lifting in the air to test the scent of the other.