Swiftcurrent Creek Can't forget your style or your cynicism

The response was neither confirmation or denial—it remained a whimsical naivety only seen in pups and youth—a naivety that was so hard to protect. “Right,” he drawled—the words sardonic but his tone light. “How silly of me.”

Still, he was pretty sure—Reverie’s scent practically emanated from the kid—stirring an air of… anxiety—maybe, within him.

Last thing he needed was being accused of kidnapping or upsetting any mama bear’s little cub—let alone Reverie’s.

So, of course, in a display of absolute karma, the kid went to lead him to the way of ‘mama’ and ended up ass over tea kettle into the mud.

The tears and wails were like a siren—and the ebony male swept forward, nose dipping down to upright her—a soft ‘shhh’ escaping his lips in an attempt to soothe. “Here, I’ll try to call mama, okay, and then we’ll get you somewhere dry while we wait?”