Swiftcurrent Creek I don't read the newspaper because they all have ugly print

“Are you always so willing to share, Arlette?” A wolfish grin given—his eyes drifting over her. “Looks like we’re both learning something new about each other today.”

Worse, though—the glee she gave at the idea that he had been smacked by a poo-rolling quill pig and was probably diseased.

And would be giving the ladies at the group hunt unsolicited puffy-eyed winks.

And then she giggled—the audacity.

“It’s not as fun when you’re teasing me instead of your mate,” he decided then, leaning back until she was done inspecting it. “Burdock root and water, got it,” he confirmed, before rolling his shoulders—a light crack giving way from him.

Age. It sucked.

“Anything in particular you want me to bestow upon these ladies of other packs other than my clearly charming company? Are we in need of anything?”