Swiftcurrent Creek and it's all because of you

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smoke paused at the bend of the creek, water talking soft over stone. swiftcurrent, he thought — felt right. he held still with a ground squirrel limp in his jaws, tail low, eyes sharp.

black female ahead. steady. familiar grief in the way she breathed the place in.

then the otter.

his gaze slid to the river-creature padding like it belonged there, then back to the woman. an otter leadin’ the way. well, hell.

the fuck..., he mutters under his breath, but still well enough for her to hear.

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