Sawtooth Spire Your love will be safe with me.

Strange to as he maneuvered the mountains, that thus far into the season, he had managed to keep primarily to himself. His duty to his pack was always at the forefront—but with Mae’s injury only weeks prior he hadn’t traveled as much—it had left a certain distaste in his mouth.

Not because he wished to be away from the valley—simply, he couldn’t justify keeping the valley safe if they did not know what lay around them. Already knowing what hellmouth lay to the north of the creek, in the taiga, he chose to skirt along the mountains—a day or two at best.

To clear one’s mind.

So when his path crossed upon the siren scent of a she-wolf, he was far more tempted to skirt away—to lay out another route, until his eyes caught view of the she-wolf—arrested for a moment by the vibrant yellow of her eyes and reminded for just a stolen moment of the little panther omega at home.

The resemblance after that was gone though—and his eyes would drift from her, his own form suspended for the moment, to the whisper of another set of steps—stirring a fang to slip from his lips.