Swiftcurrent Creek Find a place of joy

The song echoed across the creek lands, beckoning the inhabitants. His muzzle swung up gently, feeling the crisp breeze ruffle the fur of his cheeks before puppy teeth found purchase, his previous task of mid-battle with his sons forgotten in the moment and reminded with their insistent graze. He crooned to them gently, nipping playfully at the ears that came within grasp as each danced around him, and before nudging them towards the den and their mother, Constantine uttered a deeper ‘boof’ to indicate to his mate that he was making his way to their visitor.
 
It took him perhaps longer than he would have liked, given their lacking numbers and his own eagerness to bolster them. His own song released from his jaws to notify she would be greeted soon, the stocky male loping quickly to the source of the she-wolf.
 
The day was cooler – reminding him of the oncoming winter months. The grass was crisper. This would be his first cold season in the valley –he had only ever been on the other side of the mountains. His expectations were uncertain, and that left a lingering hesitance from the regal.
 
He came upon her – patiently seated respectfully at their borders with a rather impressive catch blanketing the ground before her paws. The shadow runner's form was held with recognition to his rank, though he tilted his muzzle in quiet assessment, his fiery eyes roving the youthful woman before him. “Fàilte,” he greeted in the tongue of his father, feeling a pang for the man still mourned. “Welcome. How can I help you?”