Duck Lake renəˌsäns

In a way Sven admired Swift. He knew his own mind and had a plan. A flawed plan. But one none the less. Sven himself had more of a general direction he wanted to go in and whether he got there reckless or not was to be determined.

His glacial glare was enough to make Sven feel small. But he was a son of stone. So he didn't shrink. 

He spoke. I didn't know where you were and was worried. And um.

Sven shifted his paws. I owe you an apology. I spoke carelessly and didn't take your feelings or thoughts into consideration. So I am sorry. því miður