Swiftcurrent Creek Can't forget your style or your cynicism

Didn't know if you wanted another pack mate to come grab Foxglove given Reverie's busy, orrr....? Leaving it open to your discretion. They're near the border.

She nodded—the acquiescence all he needed for him to raise, head tilting back to let loose a beckoning call through the rainstorm—whether it was Reverie or another of her pack mates that answered, he wouldn’t know—instead, once the cry fell from his lips and faded to the distance, the man would delicately lean down, picking the cub up and skirting back to the cover of a tree near the borders.

Placing her down to the base, the leaves were only beginning to grow now, and so droplets of the storm still pelted at them miserably. The pup looked at him expectantly, it seemed—unbeknownst to her just how out of his element he was in a situation like this.

Positioning himself as best he could to keep her from the main elements of the storm, Akavir stretched out, offering her a place between his outstretched forelimbs to warm up while they waited. “I’m sure someone will be here soon,” he offered, his words quieter now.