Swiftcurrent Creek nightshade

there was no desire in muskrat for a savior; the very thought of it would have brought her into a bounding bristle, a grin that was anything but joyed. a danger, to believe in her weakness when strength was all muskrat had left to her self-interest.

night man spoke. her ears listened, chin giving two decisive nods that recognized his guidance.

the paw of that injured leg flexed as if remembering the fleetness of a run, and her gaze was resolute when she flicked it akavir's way once more.

the creek camp had enough tasks to keep cloud singer from her mind. without another word, muskrat moved off into the darkness.