Swiftcurrent Creek if you spent your whole life working

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She was silent at his suggestion—frostier than perhaps the winter air that surrounded them now. She distanced herself, an angular muzzle looking back over a graceful shoulder to offer him a rather pointed look.

Oh, he knew that look—had been on the receiving end of it many times. He had pissed her off—rightfully so. Dogged by her stare down, and feeling annoyed that just how much he detested the warmth that had now departed him with her, he stared after her, solemn—to grovel would be unfair to her. A whiplash of emotions, and so, with a certain finality of the grave he had certainly dug for himself, Akavir tilted his muzzle up, calling once more for either Lestan or now @Arric—to see her reaction. To see theirs.

And to try to quash the flare of a dragon’s jealousy that mounted in his chest, for it held no real place here.