Swiftcurrent Creek Can't forget your style or your cynicism

She almost ignored the call.

Reverie had returned to her daughters only to find one of them gone. Naturally, she was frantic. She'd fled back out into the rain without a second thought, pursuing the muddled and fading scent trail Foxglove had left.

That was what she was doing when she heard the call; the one she almost ignored. But it occurred to her after a moment that maybe — maybe Foxglove had gone that way. Maybe her daughter was with Akavir.

Reverie crossed the borders soaked and breathless, heart racing in her aching throat. Foxglove's scent was in the air; that was all she truly registered even as she caught sight of Akavir, even as she went to him with a little cry of surprise and relief. Her muzzle dipped thoughtlessly toward the glimpses she caught of her child beneath his chin, unbothered by his closeness to her daughter but equally unmindful of it. Her daughter was safe; Akavir's comfort was secondary in this moment, like all other things.

Foxglove - Her voice dropped as she realized her daughter was asleep. Tears filled her eyes. Reverie glanced up from the sleeping girl to Akavir, abruptly overwhelmed by emotion.

Once again it was this which drove her to reach out, to wrap her arms briefly around Akavir when he'd presumably lifted his head to look at her. Thank you, She breathed. Thank you. Then she remembered who she was hugging and pulled away, embarrassed.