Swiftcurrent Creek nightshade

"no other plans." her ears tilted and she presented her profile in the swimming darkness. "cannot go home. so. i stay." each day of arlette's attention was one repaid by muskrat's labor. it was she who had wanted to repay — it was he who rejected the notion.

and that was as it must be.

mind reminded the swamp panther why she had come at all, and shame licked up the insides of her gut. her boldness had little place in a home that did not demand it.

self-consciously muskrat put a paw to the scar along her muzzle, feeling its hard ridgeline under her palm and remembering the day that she had earned it.

remembering the day cloud singer died;

remembering the day that yellow vine had screamed into the defiant, tear-streaked face of the daughter who loathed everything about her.

muskrat's heart ached, ached, ached. she could never return there as long as she lived. "need ah, something to do, akavir. stay busy. even while leg mends." the citrus gaze was subdued when she turned it toward him again, finding the ground as perhaps an omega should have always done.