Swiftcurrent Creek Blackfish

Akavir’s gaze zeroed in to Moss—regarding her a moment, the only insight to the surprise that he felt while maintaining a careful mask of authority. He wouldn’t deny her this, of course—he could think of no better wolf to train beside, and if she felt it best to take the boy under her wing, he would see how it played out.

“Very well.” He paused, eyes shifting back to the youth. “I’m Akavir. Welcome to the creek, then.” He paused, then motioned to the direction of the hollow. “We are on good terms with our two neighbors— Riverclan has mentioned offering healing and knowledge of other medicines to ours if needed. Perhaps you should visit and see about those,” he lifted a paw, indicating the youth’s wounds. Mild—but it would also test his ability to see how he presented himself to their allies. “Excuse me,” he then rumbled, one last look given between them both before he would make to leave, allowing Moss to direct her new charge as she saw fit.