Swiftcurrent Creek LET HER GO, BOYS | join

They stood – the monochromatic silver of his pelt a vast contrast to the arraying cinnamon sugars of her golden pelt. He seemed to consider her question, and upon the swift response of ‘no,’ Lethe felt her brows lift once more, taking this to consideration. It seemed logic was not lost upon him, and yet, could she not detect a whimsical note within his eyes as he looked upon the territory he suddenly longed to call home?

Before she could continue, the stranger responded. His words of choice were impressive, and because of this, she fell silent once more, her eyes roving over him – continuing to assess him. He was smooth with his discussion, and Lethe felt a small smirk twitch at the corner of her lips. Honesty was all a girl could ask for, truly, and while she would have much preferred his die hard insistence to forever serve her (what female wouldn’t?) he had given her enough to reconsider her previous judgement.

The she-wolf would slink forward then, sidling up to his side as she would brush her pelt against him – rubbing the scent of the Creek upon him. Sensual in nature, as was most of the regal’s movements, she would turn upon reaching his hind, only to direct herself up along the length of his other side, a crooning growl escaping her then. He was young, and the Creek could teach him so much. “You will leave us when the right she-wolf comes by,” she remarked, as if telling a prophecy, when in truth, nature would rule him in the end. Pack dispersal for the sake of breeding was a common practice. “But until then, you will be of our family,” she purred, stepping away from him then before canting her muzzle slightly. “But what is your name?”