Firefly Glen [PHE] ice bite

The dark Kvarsheim leader accepted Cygnet’s issued challenge—the newly introduced Eivor was requested as a referee, and Akavir idly wondered what Cygnet would think of this as the girl stormed off.

His eyes followed her—a paw tapping lightly on the ground once, claws extending, wondering if he was going to have to keep a closer watch on their spitfire Gamma.

Sven drew his attention back, though—his expression sombering at the proffered apology—biting his tongue to question why only now they reached out if Gunnar had wished them to do so on his deathbed There was much to be said—but there was also little point.

A few that were affected were gone from them at this point—Eshe, having given him the proverbial finger before she skipped out the door, as had Wren. Trust had been shattered—he did not know it could be rebuilt—not for what his vision had been for the valley, and he gave a wane smile to the youthful man—for maybe Sven's rose-colored glasses remained set firmly on his own snout. “Thank you,” he murmured, muzzle dipping down in a gesture of gratitude.

He could have noted to them that Cygnet—with the flash of her half tail that had been ripped from her in that fight—had been the truest victim in that entire scenario… But it would do no good for anyone, nor did he wish for that to paint her for the rest of her life. For all he knew, she held no memory or knowledge of it.

His gaze slid solidly upon Sven—apparently, the one who had taken up the mantle in place of Gunnar. “For what it’s worth—your father was a man with a good heart. I don’t think anyone doubted that. I am sorry for your loss.”