Swiftcurrent Creek One night, a few moons ago

Caliste was a bundle of energy—albeit respectfully quiet in that moment, as the adults conversed. His eyes swept up from the girl to catch the gaze of Morwenna, not surprised at the dedication and work she already put toward the pack, but certainly relieved by it. “Arlette has a talent that gets far too much use in the Creek,” he acknowledged, that haunting feeling of unease and fatigue still a shadow that hung over him.

“We really appreciate this,” he offered, his paw motioning over to the gathered herbs. “I really appreciate this,” he clarified, a wane smile pressing to his lips.

“Anything I can help with?” There was much to be done before the winter—even more so, now, with the task of advanced patrols and his upcoming travels. Her question drew a small pause from the man, a tip of his muzzle given in silent acknowledgement and answer to her question. “A wolf from the sea put an attack on her and Cygnet right before we left. She couldn’t travel with her injuries—she’s already blind.”

And now, Cygnet too had lost vision in one eye. “Mae is the toughest wolf I know, though,” he offered, lifting up to skirt around the two females, nose closer to the ground as he sought out other herbs to add to Morwenna’s pile. “With the threat of the unknown gang of wolves and another group maybe making their way to us… we’ve settled a deal with Kvarsheim so far to do patrol routes around the valley with one another—down to the desert, and over to Akashingo palace. Then back. I’ll likely go first—visit Moonglow and see if Mae is able to travel back home.”

They had yet to ask Bearclaw Valley if this was something they would want to contribute to—he wasn’t sure yet what to make of Ancelin.