Lost Creek Hollow the down of doves

ope, edited my first post to mention crowfeather!

faun had come back like a regular trader, bright and laden with pelts. silvertongue, who had cultivated an eye for beautiful things since the palace, sent a sharp eye over the furs. she smiled sweetly at the other riverclan wolves and then began to pass her paw over their glossy surfaces, stopping at a grey rabbit next to a perfectly jet ermine pelt. "are you sure, faun?" she asked with a laugh, though already her heart coveted these things.