Swiftcurrent Creek Old Habits

She sulked along the edges of the creek – her creamy paws sinking through the frozen ground of snow, her sharp eyes watching the weave of the waters as it trickled along, so very close to being completely frozen. Her breath unfurled from her muzzle in puffs of wispy vapor, rising to the grey sky and curling to nothingness. While the silence was welcome, it also did not do well for her thoughts as she dwelled.

She had spent hours searching for a small body of still water to use for scrying – she wished nothing more than to see the will of her gods revealed to her as she had once been able to, but winter was unfriendly to her, offering her neither insight or sway on the matter. Instead she was left with her doubts, and while establishing a new home and growing the ‘family’ of the Creek, that did not mean she could trust any of them.

Her eyes would lift then as the winter breeze swept past. The shift of her golden fur stung as the cold hit her skin, but she would not flinch. A creature of survival, Lethe had lived many different lives for one so young.

Quickening her pace, the she-wolf made her way to Njal’s side, unfamiliar with the male but familiar with his scent. He had graced these lands since the beginning of the pack’s rise, and for that alone, he was precious to her. She did not speak – instead, her figure would lift in a natural dominance, her muzzle reaching out to nip him upon the cheek in a gesture of friendly welcome.