Swiftcurrent Creek gourmet pub grub

◆Thanks for opportunity on Warden thread. :D ◆


Saber had not interacted with his fellow packmates all that much, entirely focused on providing cache fillings, for hunts had failed left and right in the Creeks efforts. Prey were getting slippery, and Saber knew his constant supply of fish would soon too, run the well of luck dry.
His patrol of the SouthEastern borderlines had proved cautious. The handsome agouti had found recent scents of loner wolves. Saber had the curiousity of a cat, but also the wits of a wolf. He knew the scents were undistinguished, and holding more than one scent at a time. This meant multiple wolves, and him only being a single lupine, held him at a disadvantage. He knew if they were stupid enough to enclose themselves in near a take land, however, they would reap what they sew.
And sooner than expected, an alarm rang through the skies. It came from the maw of the hellion he had met not too long ago, and briefly, the man was happy for the fae resuming her life in the Creek. Then silence overcame his mind, as he raced across the meadow, through the trees, and finally appearing at her side, leaping over a massive log with the accuracy of a full grown panther, and hackles fluffed to a point that stood his DeMonte heritage to a beautiful and equally deadly perspective.
The FrostFur could have murdered an angry mother bear, his adrenaline flaring through his veins as the mere thought of the pack mate who might have only just returned, only for her to be placed in the hands of danger.
Hell would be paid for whoever dared to attempt it, and it could only be attempted through his dead body.