Jade Fern Grove just a young gun with a quick fuse

silvertongue's glassblue eyes passed over the offering and then returned to the now concerned countenance of the creek leader. twilight brought with it a lowering temperature; the wind moving across the frozen drifts curled her silverfur locks and reminded of her crowfeather's scent, wound into her pelt down to her skin. it was only with this new wisdom that she moved proudly and stiffly at last toward akavir, sitting down a formal distance away and hoping that this mingling of scents might provide a shield, not for her but for him. the nearness of the powerful man sent her body atingle once more. she ignored it, and did not take the meal, wrapping forepaws in her silken plume. "how is the creek, akavir?"