Swiftcurrent Creek Andaran atish’an

Fenrith didn’t need to be told twice. The second the weight eased from his shoulders, he scrambled to his feet in a tangle of too-long limbs, snow scattering under his paws as he scuttled backward. His heart was still thudding in his chest.

But Fenrith was many things, and quiet wasn’t one of them. “That’s it? Just get out?” he blurted, disbelief edging his voice as he stared at the other wolf. “No ‘my name is’? No ‘this is our land, so watch yourself next time’? Just…” He lifted a paw and gestured vaguely toward the mountain’s edge, his brown eyes widening. “Get out?”

His voice carried a touch of exasperation, maybe desperation, but not anger—there was something boyish in the way he said it, like he couldn’t believe he’d nearly been flattened for so little. Still, he didn’t stand still long enough to tempt fate; his lean frame stayed light on his feet, skittering a few paces further to widen the gap between them.

“I—look,” Fenrith started, his tone softer now, his ears swiveling back slightly as he sought to explain. “I’m alone. Just me, no pack. I wasn’t trying to mess with anyone’s land. I didn’t know.” Then came the sheepish flick of his tail.

And the puppy eyes.