Mudminnow River every hermit crab needs a shell

His tactlessness was found somewhat amusing, and Frederick dipped his head in appreciation only a moment after Lestan practically zipped his mouth shut before apologising. He wondered if Lestan was right, whether the snow-ridden man would enjoy the company of the Swiftcurrent wolves. Akavir, the name lingered in his mind for a moment. That of a leader, he thought. A chief. A strong name, even. And then, at the mentions of them being cousins, Frederick couldn't stop his eyes from widening in a slight shock. Quickly, he relaxed his brows, meandering his paws against the earth, kneading.

So it seemed that Swiftcurrent Creek was a friend to all. Peace, trade, information, perhaps Frederick could get his paws on something valuable to bargain for the whereabouts of his brother. He flicked his tail apathetically at the kestrals' call, glancing upwards for a moment before returning piercing eyes onto the dirt-looking fellow ahead of him. It seemed quite a compliment that he hadn't stuttered on Frederick's name, almost causing him to look smug when he smiled next. Call me Fred, if you like. He said.

Information could be useful, he hummed to himself. If he'd been born a bipedal, fleshy species, he'd be scratching his chin thoughtfully, legs crossed and a hand on his hip as if he was an art critic studying a specific, neo-surrealism piece. He met multi-coloured eyes, focusing on the wheat opposed to midday sky: gold against blue. The light of the sun met with sapphire, reminiscent of an eclipse.

Perhaps I could come with you to meet him--this Akavir lad. Would you be interested in that? Frederick's tone, almost nonchalant, though his eyes practically sparkled. This could be his chance to finally track down Adrian.