Swiftcurrent Creek i'm gnashing my teeth like a child of cain

“Moss saved my life once, long ago,” he murmurs, pausing in his ministrations as he thinks of her. Moss and her sister—also, now gone. Joined together, in whatever it was the afterlife held for them all, maybe.

A slow exhale began as Wren pleaded she go with him—his gaze soft upon her, yet a certain stern countenance on his features. “You need to rest, Wren… You’re so bruised up you can barely move without a groan,” he responded. “I also need to move fast—I want to get the pup back to Bellatrix as quickly as possible… her own pup is beginning to wean and we can’t have her milk dry up. Not yet.”

Once more, Eshe’s plea to produce milk for the orphan came to the forefront of his mind—and he said nothing of this. In time, there would be a discussion on what could be.

“When I get back, we’ll have a memorial. It’s a good idea… Offer some closure…”

He allows the topic of Silvertongue to dwindle. The Sharpfang was more than comfortable enough to stay here, he was sure, but he would not press it. It wasn’t his business.


"And then I'm going to up patrol on the valley until I find the two clowns that attacked you."