Whitebark Stream mice with swords

Setting this before the death of Kavik & Grezig, if that's okay?

He'd been nearby when a call sounded from the borders, having recently returned from checking out a small herd of deer that had recently settled in the maplewood. Artyom, abandoning plans to refresh territory markers, quickened his stride and moved swiftly between familiar in the stranger's direction.

Dark eyes fell upon an obsidian frame, his hues made warm by the light of their afternoon sun. The leader studied him quietly as he slowed his pace and closed the distance between them, at once finding something familiar in his young features that he couldn't quite place. "Good day," he greeted, brown eyes curious as he offered a friendly lash of his tail. "What brings you here?"