Swiftcurrent Creek go and hide yourselves

The stranger sensed him—bristling, guarded, and it was a pair of a violet eyes that darted back to study the approaching Alpha. Still—the boy’s approach softened—his voice tentative, stirring Akavir’s ears to cup forward and his own footfalls to cease.

If he struck a nervousness in the other—good. He was tired of others stomping across the creek wolves as if they were doormats.

Eshe, of course, was the dictionary definition of gracious and welcoming. She offered Akavir’s names—placing him at the helm of what to offer the youthful wolf’s inquiry.

“Bearclaw, as in the valley?”

The name didn’t seem a coincidence—and Akavir’s gaze was unmoving from the wolf’s features. If anything—this Ancelin reminded him of Ash Paw.