Swiftcurrent Creek swift is death's blow

Saber had filled 3 caches that morning, the holes now consisting of fat squirrels who were too slow to get away from the dagger lined jaws of his. Foolishly, the had decided to venture too far from the safety of their trees, to search for the abundance of nuts and other delicacies that promised them survival during the winter.
Foolish squirrels.

He placed another furry carcass in a newly made cache besides an old willow that decided its resting place would be next to the swift creek of a river, the river that Saber had no knowledge of pertaining to the packs history.
The Frostfur desperately wanted to know the pack history, so he could have some knowledge to share with the remarkably beautiful hellion who he had met not too long ago. Not only that, he too, desired to know others that resided in Swiftcurrent Creek.

The handsome sand and warm tawny pelted man licked his chops, removing the crimson droplets of the little rodents life essence from view, and decided fishing would be acceptable at a moment like this. So padding gracefully, he poised himself in the fashion of a waiting viper, patient to get a meal, lips parted, just above the water's crystalline surface.