Swiftcurrent Creek cowpoke

They weren’t seen yet—the general idea of the ‘intruders’ conversation certainly backing up Arric’s observation, and Akavir found himself faintly amused, despite the unfortunate circumstance. “Too bad we didn’t recruit a healer yet,” he surmised, recalling Arric’s suggestion they do so at their first meeting.

Bummer.

“Well. Prepare for the worst, I guess, and we’ll see how this goes.” It seemed there were only two of them—a fair fight, at least in Akavir’s mind, and he lifted himself, rolling his shoulders back to stretch the taut muscles before winding past, coming to the opening and view of the others.

“Beannachd leat,” he offered, shoulder squared up, champagne eyes stoical as they roved over the party before him. He was hopeful they didn’t speak his father’s language—and that it would deter them from lingering.