Lost Creek Hollow una tortura perderte

This song just reminds me of @Silvertongue

Silvertongue’s scent had lingered at the creek on and off—he would know, as he was drawn to it each time. Each time, she had not sought him, nor called for him. It was bittersweet in many ways—it allowed him to look upon Eshe with more consideration, knowing that the woman of Riverclan would never return an inkling of the feelings he felt he could have for her.

He could have held on to her in the only way she would allow him too—a physical sense of trust and healing between the two of them. But he needed more… and he knew if he were to move forward and truly attempt to begin courting another, he would need to end this chapter of his life.

It hurt—knowing that in doing so would probably mean little to Silvertongue. She had a myriad of lovers, it seemed—he knew this already.

So the man stood solemnly at the borders of Riverclan, a crooning note sent out to the she-wolf, beckoning her for a quick chat. Time to rip the proverbial bandaid from his wounds.