Swiftcurrent Creek waiting star

Morwenna swung ‘round, gaze upon him as she stood solidly by the caribou hunter. She chuffed—‘toilsome’—as if belittling children, and his lip curled upward, a flash in the champagne gold of his eyes as he realized now how he had been had by the starkissed woman.

“Then don’t bring malcontent to surround and threaten our home, Morwenna,” he deadpanned—the woman who had, above all else to him, claimed a level of diplomacy.

The gifts were worthless—but he did not state as such. More than enough members on the creek could do with them what they willed—pups could shred caribou hide—feast upon the meat. Piss on it, for all he cared. This was not a supplement to cover loss but an attempt for show.

To what purpose—he was not sure. Again, he found himself not caring.

The man dismissed himself and his hunters. Morwenna herded in the front of them before they took their leave, and Akavir watched with stony consideration. To Arric, his voice lowered, muzzle swinging to the large Beta. “Take @Frederick and do a sweep for the alleged hunters on guard toward our southeast side. I’ll tale @Lestan northwest. I want a number count of how many you scent or find.”

If the Chieftain thought Akavir would be cowed into accepting a threat to their pack because of the young within their ranks… the one-eyed wolf would soon realize it was the potential threat the man had implied that would stir the creek to action, if only to protect their young.