Swiftcurrent Creek whats comes next,

Even with the quivering nerves that seemed to fray her, tender paws worked diligently upon him, a gentle cooling felt as the salve was applied. His eyes traced the pale star upon her forehead, and he had to refrain from tracing it—the starborn woman.

He believed if he touched her, though, the words she now spoke would desist. That the moment would be shattered and tucked back within—a way that only those who bore tragedy and managed to continue onward knew precariously how to do.

Another puzzle piece slotted into position—the frown that darkened his features was cast toward the sky as she continued to speak—the set of his teeth on edge. For whatever many of them had endured in the creek, this perhaps was the harshest he had heard.

And somehow, she found guilt within herself for one of the creek’s missing pups.

She tended to him in finality—but the cursed man shifted his weight then, eyes tracing toward her, persistent to catch her gaze despite she tried to ignore his. How did one trust anyone, after they endured such a thing?

A paw swept down to tilt her chin up toward him, should she allow it—the press of his forehead to hers—black upon starkissed—his eyes closing for a moment. “Never again. Not here.”

And this—this was why it was important to maintain the peace of the valley—when kingdoms and clans and packs around them remained corrupt in so many ways.