Swiftcurrent Creek And the sign flashed out it's warning.

Arric—as always—brushed off his own well-being to check in on his pack mates. A wry smile was offered, and for a moment, Akavir considered settling himself down for the talk before them… but thought better of it—he needed to keep moving.

So with a sweep of his muzzle in invitation to continue the direction his friend had been going prior, he began to assist Arric in the border marking. The creek had grown to a comfortable amount of wolves—but they could always use more within their ranks.

“You might have been right about Wren and Eshe,” he told his friend, nose to the dirt before he lifted a paw, scratching at the surface of where an old scent clung to. Nothing threatening. “But… what I think we really should talk about is something Wren and I found out about on our trip to Akashingo. It’s not pretty. But it’s not really our story to tell, either… but… I think you need to know, regardless.”