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

Moss saved his life, once. A twisting feeling erupts within her chest; he wouldn't let her go to Kvarsheim, and there was no use in arguing. Akavir, one paw reaches outward, hoping to reach his shoulder or his cheek. at least let me do something. Give yourself-- let yourself grieve, if you need to. You and Arric are not on your own, you have me.
He was right. She could barely move without a groan and she hated it. Moss was dead. Arric was growing weary; irritable. Eshe overworked herself, threw herself at every possible problem, and she could not possibly do everything herself.
The Creek, if you asked Wren, was in shambles. And there was so little she could do about it.
When I'm better, she hesitates, even if only briefly; I wanna be good for something. I talked to Arric about, like, becoming an ambassador. For Swiftcurrent. Maybe taking up a beta position alongside him one day. she swallows again, sucking in a shallow, faltering breath. I know I'm-- I'm not much. But you have no idea how much this pack means to me. How much-- how much you mean to me. and she meant it, even as her voice grew hoarse with strain and her eyes grew tired the more she kept them open. But she didn't push it.
He talks of the memorial, and the side of her face presses against the wall of her den as she listens to the warm baritone of his voice. At the comment about the patrols, a puff of dry air comes from her nostrils. You'd do that for me? she supposed it wasn't just her; Mae, the orphan; but he said her. Her eyelashes bat in an attempt at sardonic playfulness, a smile flashing. Wow, would yah look at that. My knight in shining armor.