Emberwood branch-waving

Though claimed without confidence, Wake indeed believed that the summerwolf withheld an inexhaustible amount of information concerning this valley. This one clearly had a propensity for observing things, even if he was not inclined to confront those same things.

Something seemed to register belatedly on the eversweet’s face, blinking rapidly to dispel it. Unfortunately, his expression was an open book to the winter man, practically a billboard, and he watched the change with languid patience, biding his time as a crocodile might.

Kvarsheim and Bearclaw Valley.

One known as generous, the other... not so much. Wake could imagine which was which on name alone.

And what of— Swiftcurrent, you called it? What is your pack known for? Were they all as studious as him? As pacifist, as avoidant? Wake hoped not. He hoped this wolf stood alone in his complexities, so that he might invest the rarity. Herd him close and ferret him away to some private corner of the world, to hoard and bask in this rare bluesummer all to himself.