Swiftcurrent Creek There is no way but up

‘If you would allow me to continue?’

It was these words the elder man spoke—as if he had been interrupted by a rowdy gang of yearlings, rather than wolves he stood before with accusations stemming from him. He had questioned them—they had answered, after being given the floor—and now he seemed to backtrack his words, now saying he wished for clarification and to better understand the situation.

Akavir remained unimpressed, and Gunnar’s entitlement was what spoke to him now.

Gunnar had tried to impress upon the dark leader the man’s youthfulness—but two was hardly a pup, unlike Mae, and again, the Mayfair found it hard to sympathize.

When the man stopped, Akavir found himself at a loss for words. His initial thought was to react with the severance of an alliance—the crumpling of a valley. What was the point, in the end? Silvertongue was gone, having left her mark physically upon his brow and mentally within his chest. Riverclan gave favor to a man who remained the very reason their Sharpfang had fled… the same man who also held safe harbor in Kvarsheim. It would seem the company they chose to keep was not as endearing as they tried to display.

But where he lacked words—Wren did not. The emotion is clear within her voice and as such, the man moves next to her, closer, shoulder to her own, trying to ground her, but while from his peripheral vision he can see her quake, it is Gunnar he watches now, his anger rising with every word she offers as she relives the terrible event.

She finishes—her statement grand, and it is then Akavir tilts his muzzle, nose smoothing to her cheek should she allow it, inhaling, and then exhaling a moment. Taking a moment…

“She’s right, Gunnar. You didn’t come for clarification or details—you launched into a demand of knowledge. Your wolf chose to ignore the fact it was our packmate who had died and lunged toward one of our own—a child, mind you— my child. You don’t get to come to my borders and condemn my pack for reacting—it was stated multiple times that it was Swiftcurrent Creek business and our packmate. He chose to ignore that—he chose to initiate a physical reaction the moment he moved toward my daughter, and he chose to continue his assault.”

A pause, then. “I’m going to ask you to leave, now. Wren, Eshe, nor Mae are going to relive the death of a pack mate and a fight while they are in the safety of their own home because you've made the demand. Perhaps a meeting between the three packs is the best course now in neutral lands.”

He continued to study the man. “You’ve come to these borders looking for some kind of vindication or condemnation. Perhaps we both take time to consider what either side has said and cooler heads can prevail later.”