Swiftcurrent Creek copper thunder

tags for reference only

Lilitu was gone.

He did not sleep. He did not eat. He did not speak.

@Arric had tried to lure him to conversation—whether in the forms of a heart to heart, or gentle banter. His tongue felt like ash—his heart as if it no longer was there.

If Akavir had thought he grieved the death of his wife, that had paled in comparison to the insurmountable grief that clung to him like his own fatal disease. It devoured him—certainly, there would be nothing left.

So when the man had caught the scent of wolverine near the den site of @Arlette, it had been as if a rabid beast actually had been sprung upon it—the blood spread—it painted the man’s cheeks, chin and chest. His prize clamped in his jaws—the bites and tears the savage animal had given him glinting in the light of the sun as he stalked the lands, uncaring where he went.

Of course—until he heard Muskrat—“I go as wife, or as warrior?”

His nostrils flared, he turned—and he moved like a wraith to the borders edge—fierce gaze locking to the man she spoke to now—the recognition hitting him with surprise, but no sense of relief.