Swiftcurrent Creek running in circles, now look what you've done

Muskrat remained silent—unreadable to the man, but his focus was mostly upon the couple before them who had been mid-cuddle and very glaringly in love. Arric’s grin was met with the hint of a smirk and an arched brow—but his eyes drifted to Arlette as she rose, his features softening.

He slowly sat himself down—pleased the little healer was plied with food, for he needed her to be in a good mood… But her question about the makeshift splint had Akavir tilting his head slightly, looking down and over to the feisty warrior, internally sighing as he noted the way it was beginning to fall off—

—not the best start to butter the healer up.

“Arlette,” he began slowly, gaze drifting back to her—voice light, for clearly he was trying to be coaxing. “How long do you think before Muskrat can potentially fight?” Another arched brow—a pause, as his gaze moved to Arric. “We believe we’ve located Mae’s attacker. I’m taking a handful of wolves to bring him to justice.”

Muskrat was on his list of potential warriors—but not without Arlette signing the permission slip. Remarkable, perhaps, how the diminutive she-wolf somehow held both male leaders in check.