Swiftcurrent Creek caribou wife

Boisterous—more youthful than him, but old enough to have the wisdom of years under their belt. They seemed disinterested in his point—the paler of the two simply adding the description of eye color—and Akavir’s gaze was lacking impression as he studied the eager fellow.

Cygnet cast him a wry glance—bordering weary, he could swear—and the manner in which she regarded them now seemed to hold a certain understanding. His jaw remained set—he did not console the girl with reassurance of words, for this was the way of life—

—instead, his gaze drifted between the two, noting the intrinsic scent of sand and ocean upon their fur.

“This is Swiftcurrent Creek, and I’m Akavir.” He paused, feeling a surge of protectiveness at sharing more—but given the pale girl was here, tending the borders, he could not keep her from the dangers and knowledge of the outside world much longer. “This is Cygnet.”