Swiftcurrent Creek Indigo

The past few weeks had been wrought with trespassers and defense. Wrung out in so many ways—particularly the realization of just where the silver wolf who kept the key to his soul had run to. Leaden limbs trailed the length of his creek—an ebony ear swiveling to the faintest sound of the fresh spring peepers as the sun begun to nestle away for the night.

His sixth year listening to them—each year had always been in a different place, or varying presences in his life… the majority of them having come and gone.

But the ambience was one he looked forward to—the soothing symphony of chirps signifying the new life that could be—a cadence that was calming. It was these little moments in life he lived for.

The splash of cold water from the bank edges dampen his fur along his dark limbs. His pale eyes gleaming as they cast ahead—and while the silhouette of night falls, distinctly, there’s another figure there, and he feels the weight of the world press down upon him once more—

—was this yet another wolf to defend his home or family from?

Stoical—he utters a low croon to demand the lissome creature’s attention—as he glides closer, noting the embers of the she-wolf’s gaze as she laps at the water. Distinctly, something about her stills him—unease, perhaps.

The faintest recalling of the hot sun and burning sands of the lands that had terrified the woman who had crushed him.