Swiftcurrent Creek but the days are cruel and mean

She took to her task now—both moving in an amicable silence that was far more Akavir’s preference. Every so often he would slow his pace—not to better suit her but only to ensure they would cross paths and he would graze a shoulder to her own, or hip—a simple statement of pack solidarity. That she had a home here, even if she had come to them in the dead of night, seeking shelter.