Swiftcurrent Creek zig and zag

Having gotten back on her feet, Cyclone's mind wandered occasionally to the silvery black wolf she had met perhaps a month ago. They had unfortunately been interrupted from doing anything, but Cyclone had made a vague promise of coming back again. No details had been exchanged, but she had always intended to return. She hadn't gotten his name, but that hardly mattered. She had an appearance, and she figured somebody could point her in the right direction or call for him.

The Blackthorn lingered once again on the borders, making no move to go toward or away them, but sitting quietly a good distance away, alert for anybody who might be making the rounds.

While the prospect of another litter of cubs for Swiftcurrent was enough to bring stars to her eyes, Durnehviir could not deny the uncertainty that accompanied her anticipation. She stayed as close to Constantine as he would allow her in her most receptive days, both making herself available to him and relying on his proximity to protect her from any other that might think himself an appropriate suitor.

To present herself to him for the taking was a poor attempt at winning his affections, but the haze of hormones that coursed her veins to prompt a wild desire to mate had not yet cleared enough to fully recognise this. The likelihood of guilt's grip when her cycle came to an end was strong, but she cast it aside in favour of setting her focus toward seeing it through to success.

She clung to the notion of rearing another litter sired by Constantine, and hoped the season might rekindle the flame that'd unfortunately been doused months before. Durnehviir parted ways from him reluctantly that morning, eager to stretch her legs and quench her thirst as swiftly as she could.

Upon spotting a dark figure lurking near Swiftcurrent's territory outskirts, the russet wolfess paused in her tracks. Initially she thought the rogue from the other day had made another appearance, but on closer inspection she found this one to be female. Frowning thoughtfully, Durnehviir slipped carefully through the foliage to reveal herself with her ears lifted and champagne eyes alight with curiosity.

She did not speak. Instead, she halted a comfortable distance away from the stranger and tested the air for any hint of what pack she might belong to.

A wolf with all shades of red, brown, black, and white appeared. A female, no less, and smelling rather strongly of the wolf she had hoped to encounter here. Very interesting. She smelled faintly of that smell Cyclone knew all too well, and one that Cyclone herself hoped would hold off for her until Libertine Coterie was properly settled. The Blackthorn counted her cards, so to speak, then chose her words wisely.

I'm seeking a wolf who lives here. Silvery black with red-orange eyes. Ring any bells? she asked, tipping her ears forward. If asked, Cyclone would gladly answer questions, but she wanted her own questions answered, too.

Black, the stranger began to describe the wolf she sought, and Durnehviir prepared to roll a crimson shoulder in a shrug. She'd met many dark-furred wolves during her time in the Teekon, and Swiftcurrent's ranks housed several of them. It was the mention of red-orange eyes that caused her nostrils to flare, and she gritted her fangs to bite back the low rumble of jealousy that swelled immediately in her chest.

"Yes," she answered simply, unwilling to share any further information without having her own question answered first: "why?"

We have unfinished business, Cyclone replied. If the other wolf wasn't willing to give her more information, the Blackthorn could be just as cryptic. Cyclone's tail twitched ever-so-slightly, but she remained neutral, if not a bit submissive toward the other wolf. No need to ruffle any feathers when she didn't need to. Would you mind calling for him? she asked.