Lost Creek Hollow una tortura perderte

There was a lot to consider with her words— a lot to unpack.

Or, perhaps, there just simply wasn’t. Her tone was sharp with her anger—and when gemstone eyes fell to him, revealing that Wren had told her he was seeing Eshe, the man felt a tense grind of his jaw—why would Wren feel it her business to reveal such a thing to the Sharpfang?

Aside from the fact his Gamma also harbored feelings for Silvertongue… of which he assumed she knew of his own.

But the moment Silvertongue brazenly spoke of Eshe—and then commented that she herself was right where she wished to be—it was more than enough insight to know she was indifferent to his own feelings—affected so very little that he was potentially moving from her warm embrace and to another.

And so he steeled himself. A glint within his eyes—unreadable, perhaps, spare for the more perceptive or those closest to him—and he gave a short nod.

“The creek is always here if you need us,” he confirmed, his tone sobering… Removing himself from the equation as he felt she so wished. As he knew he would have to do, in order to give any fair chance to the delicate healer who had come within his ranks and captured his interest.