Swiftcurrent Creek la neta

Silvertongue took in his words—a stolen glance offered to the mouth of the den, and harried as he was, he wasn’t quite sure who the ‘she’ was Silvertongue referred to. “The swamp witch?” Aptly names, he decided, upon her coaxing him toward the swamps before running from a fight. A coward. “I found her in the marsh and managed to get a piece of her, but she took off into the grove.”

He paused—then, quietly. “Unless you mean their mother… in which case, I have absolutely no idea.” His tongue slides across his lips, his eyes fixating on her. “Silvertongue…. I hate to ask, but… is there a nursing mother in Riverclan with spare milk? They’re not fully weaned… They should really have more, and…” His lips pressed tighter. “I can’t ask our other mother here. I can’t trust her with them.”