Swiftcurrent Creek The truth is

There was an itch beneath his skin. And it drew his blood hot. And irritation. Had he handled himself poorly at the borders perhaps, and yet he'd do it again. He hated snot nosed kids who thought they could do no wrong And didn't expect to get consequences for their actions. 

Swordfish had been a part of the creek he had liked the kid then. Then he had left and came back only after he impregnated a she wolf who frankly was too good for him clearly and Akavir amd Arric were cleaning up the mess again. It rankled. It infuriated. And hot damn it exhausted.

Arric found a quiet spot and took one breath and another. Slowly loosening the muscles of his back and shoulders. Making his brain quiet. And he felt himself slowly relaxing as he meditated for the first time in quite sometime. A habit he had lost as children arrived and he was on deck to help his wife. And now Suzu and Etienne and frigging Swordfish.

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The fog that settled over the creek this time of year was reminiscent of his own feelings—though a darkness had devoured him, surely.

There was no coming back from the death of his daughter. Days went by and it didn’t simply become easier—the pain did not stop, nor begin to numb. Instead, he had to force himself to do more. To be more.

Even just to be, honestly.

Yet while it was one day at a time—there was also a certain tension it seemed that lived in his Beta, as he watched from a distance the sulking form of a shadow that could only be Arric from sheer size alone. It rankled the comment his friend had thrown at him at the meeting—‘you’re a dickfuck,’ was the greeting he had received. And then a ‘sorry buddy, I get it.’

But he didn’t. And Akavir didn’t want him to get it—he could only hope that the big guy that seemed to settle down to meditate didn’t have to bury one of his own kids. Akavir wouldn’t apologize for needing space. Not for that.

Casting a sideways glance to the wetter cusp of the creek bed, the Alpha stalked forward, grabbing what he needed to be armed.

And then—waltzed up to the Beta male, who seemed intent on finding some inner peace. “Hey, fuckface,” he murmured, his words muffled as he approached, right before gearing up and all but slapping the cattail across the other man’s face in a pure explosion of fluffy seeds and mayhem.

How was that for being a dickhead?

If you've never played with a cattail as a kid have you even lived?

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Arric would not take any of his words back. He would apologize for them if need be, but never take them back. Because he often didn't say shit without thinking first. Not always, but pretty damn near.

He had never buried a child's and gods he hoped he never did. But he had buried his mom, his father. Countless others that needed it. It was a dark spot on ya.

Blue eyes popped open, but before he could say a word. A stinging pile of fluff nailed him in the face. He coughed and choked. Inhaled and more of the shit went in his nose he gagged.

He tripped forward, gathered some momentum and slammed into the other male as he died from fluffiness.

 Large forearms going around the others neck in a pull of immature wrestling.

What a fucking way to die by fluffiness. He supposed he deserved it often enamored with fluffy things. He choked again.

Fuck you. Cough cough. I'm dying