Swiftcurrent Creek frog

Pale eyes studied her from afar—withholding the deep rumble in his chest. She lay stretched out—like a leisurely cat in the sun, soaking up its warmth. The cat who had stolen the cream and still received a warm bed at the end of it all.

He trusted the thief as far as he could throw her—so why had it bothered him so much to send an injured wolf back out to the harsher realities of rogue life who had not only raided them, but aimed to main on top of it all?

He was almost surprised Mae hadn’t attempted retribution yet—and quietly relieved. His daughter was in no capacity to fight.

Three fish flopped next to her—weakening as the life was slowly ebbed from them.

For a moment, he could relate more to the slowly dying fish than he cared to admit.