Swiftcurrent Creek Andaran atish’an

For a beat, Fenrith just stood there, ears perked forward and brown eyes wide as Arric spoke. It took a moment for the words to fully sink in—You can join.

He blinked, as if waiting for the punchline. When it didn’t come, his tail gave the smallest, hesitant flick, and that grin—the one that always lingered around the edges of his boyish face—returned. “Wait. Seriously?” he blurted, almost breathless.

It wasn’t relief so much as surprise; Fenrith had been ready to be chased halfway down the mountain, not invited to stay. “You’re not just messing with me, are you?” he added, a touch of that nervous energy crackling back into his tone.

But Arric’s expression made it clear the beta wasn’t joking, so Fenrith shut his mouth—mostly.

Fenrith kept pace behind Arric, his long legs moving easily despite the tension still lingering in his chest. Silence stretched between them for a beat too long, and finally, he couldn’t hold it back.

“Alright, but how am I supposed to avoid that if I can’t smell anything?” It was an honest question—genuine, if a little exasperated—as he glanced sidelong at the Beta’s broad frame.