Swiftcurrent Creek made your mark on me, a golden tattoo

sorry he's dumb lol

Decidedly, Quill was intent on waking.

Her urgent whisper stirred his eyes to open, blinking against the faint light. Sleep-induced still, he yawned, pulling her again closer as she spoke, burying his face to her soft fur.

But her words startled him—and something similar to dread pooled within him as he snapped his head upward now, testing the air—wondering what she meant. “No,” he began, pushing upward and maneuvering to the entrance of the den, beginning to test the wind, as if expecting fire and smoke to meet him—or a predator. What other type of scent would have her so alarmed?