Swiftcurrent Creek Can't forget your style or your cynicism

There was nothing to be said in the gloomy weather—the rain had soaked him thoroughly, and from the fatigue that seemed to emanate from Reverie, he assumed she felt the same. Still—she was a timid thing most of the time, and it didn’t miss his attention that she remained so even now—hesitating at the entrance of the den.

Was she nervous of his presence? It wasn’t such a stretch to imagine so—everything he had learned that had happened with the man Kestrel… Their argument over Moss. A ledger of red between them.

He felt his jaw tick—he ducked his muzzle down, eyes blinking into the darkness to see her gilded frame in the backdrop of a den that was uncomfortably familiar. “I need to go find Mae… She doesn’t like to be left alone for too long. Okay here?”

He would be out of her hair soon.