Swiftcurrent Creek Gladfly Suite

Whether she fully understood or not—he surmised it meant little importance for now. She stood, eager in the way she moved back and forth, stirring the hint of a smirk from the fan. “Come,” he crooned, leading her, and if she should near, he would graze his shoulder to her in camaraderie, marking her as pack so that none would question her presence here.

He would lead her to one of the caches, drifting from her side to dig at one—tail sweeping the air in open invitation for her to join—to eat. She was thin—and he was not willing to leave her just yet.

If his suspicions of her kindness were correct, it was possible he had found a rather suitable pupsitter for his brood—at least during the next weeks trials and duty that would potentially see his presence in and out of the creek for lengthier times.

Whether or not she could handle the spitfire Mae, his daughter, though, was to be determined.