Swiftcurrent Creek ghost under rocks

The girl was bereft—her insistence stemmed from a hurt that Akavir was all too familiar with when it came to the silver Sharpfang. He cast a sideways glance to Arlette who greeted him quietly, forcing the corners of his mouth to lift in a sad smile to the woman before his focus fell back to the girl—her words becoming louder, the accusation of liars falling from her lips.

She made to walk past him, bellowing the woman’s name, and he sidestepped, allowing her to do so. If this was what she needed to believe them—to scour the creek lands—he would allow it.

“You can search for her,” he offered her, unsure if she heard his words over her summons of the woman who had fled the valley. “And after, I can go with you to Riverclan, and we can talk to your father, okay?”

Because if the girl did not know Silvertongue had fled, clearly, she had not told her pack. Even worse, if she had actually told her pack she would be at the Creek... then that would need to be remedied.

He stole another glance to Arlette, unsure how she wished to deal with the situation further—escort them as well, or continue on her way.