Silver Creek [m] Ain't nowhere left for the good to go

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Wordlessly they'd settled into one another's lives. Winterbourne scarcely strayed from Ingiullik's side. He hunted for her, scouted out abandoned dens for the nights they spent together — but when he was not occupied by one of those tasks, the fur of his flank often mingled with hers. His scent thick upon her was an unspoken claim.

He dropped a fish at her feet as he returned from his latest quest for food, settling nearby with his paws folded neatly. His eyes lingered on her. The fire of her season was fading, and now he watched her closely for any sign of regret for their time together.