Swiftcurrent Creek Can't forget your style or your cynicism

Reverie’s gaze was rapt upon her daughter—but Akavir studied her when she wasn’t looking. The rain of kisses that befell the girl were an all too familiar understanding—the worry that emanated from her indicating to the man she had yet to dispel the nightmares that had likely plagued her when in search for her child.

Reverie looked to him then—stumbling over what sounded like an explanation—though he hadn’t asked for one. Thoughtfully, his own gaze drifted down tot he sleeping bundle at her feet—had Mae not needed him so much these days, he would have extended the offer to carry her home. The rain—the storm—wouldn’t help the little girl.

“If he’s still with your others, you can stay in one of our abandoned dens for the night with her until the rain let’s up if you want.”