Swiftcurrent Creek Partners In Crime

She pattered after him like a strange golden shadow, otter medicine bag clutched in her jaws gently. It prevented her from speaking - which was likely for the best as it would have been a stuttering, nervous string of her mother tongue - but she nodded along as Sherigrim detailed some of the Clan's finer workings. Confusion met his words which brought forth new anxiety - his Clan's ways were so different; would she feel terribly out of place amongst his people?

The forest appeared on the horizon all too soon but the pixie forced an eager expression onto her scarred features, smiling genuinely as she returned his sweet nuzzle. At the very least, she would not be alone - she had Sheri now.

With a bow of her buttermilk nape, Elve placed the otter tote on the ground before her and tugged her caribou wrap closer around her shoulders - shifting half-hidden behind her Intended subconsciously. The pelt cloak was a blanket of security, the spirit of her Totem resided within and the weight of it draped over her form was as comforting as the silver male pressed against her side. 

The Medicine Woman nodded, swallowing as her ocean gaze searched the treeline for movement that would herald his Chief's arrival.