Swiftcurrent Creek One night, a few moons ago

Morwenna listened in silence, her silver eyes fixed on Akavir as he spoke. She absorbed his words carefully, the weight of the challenges he described settling heavily in the quiet air between them. The attack on Mae and Cygnet, the growing threats from unknown wolves, the alliances forged for the sake of safety—it was a tangled web of diplomacy, danger, and duty.

Her gaze lingered on Akavir as he paused, the weariness etched into his features unmistakable. She noted his resolve, the quiet strength that kept him moving forward despite the weight of leadership pressing down on him. It was admirable, though she did not say so aloud.

When he mentioned his plan to visit Moonglow, she straightened slightly, her posture shifting to one of quiet readiness. I’ll accompany you, she offered at last, her voice calm but firm. Arric and Arlette need to be here.

Her gaze softened slightly, though her tone remained steady. Besides, two voices are stronger than one. And I am your diplomat. This is what I’m here for. She allowed the faintest hint of a smile to cross her features before looking back toward the herbs, waiting for his response.

Pass me the yarrow— the white flowers.