Swiftcurrent Creek you aren't the kind of boy who should be marrying the wrong girl

He had kept his solitude upon his return—time spent with the kids, though something felt off—his mind disquieted with the knowledge he had gained from the journey. Uncertain what to do with it all—and so he compartmentalized it for now, placing it inside a tiny part of his mind, locking it away and all but sitting on the key.

What he hadn’t forgot, though, was the silver she-wolf whom had gathered his attention just prior his departure. Wide and innocent brown eyes with freckles that graced her muzzle and cheek bones—it was usually met with a sting of guilt or discomfort, given his feelings for Silvertongue—unrequited, and thus, misery.

So when he rounded past a tree, about to brush his scent upon it, he did a double take when Eshe’s own mingled softly upon it—and pale champagne eyes glanced up sharply, falling upon her as she sprawled upon the soft grass, still damp from a wash, and he found himself fascinated for a moment… and reluctant to interrupt her, lest his presence stir discomfort in her after their last meeting.