Swiftcurrent Creek playing with a stick of dynamite

He had done a sweep of the border—it remained quiet, as evening crept in, the sun beginning to wane in the sky. The days were becoming minutely longer with the light offered—and he could feel that winter would soon give way to spring. Thus far, the creek had done just fine weathering the colder months.

And when the thaw came, there would be more promise in the air for the pack to flourish, he hoped.

Still, he bore down a hillier side of the creek lands, eyes rapt before him, searching for @Arric. There were things to be discussed.