Swiftcurrent Creek You know it's not the same as it was

She spoke of Lestan—idly, Akavir wondered if this was where the man had been keeping his time. His first assumption was that it could grow complicated if a romantic interest budded between the two—his next thought washing that away as irrelevant and a bridge to be crossed if it even came to that. Just because she was a woman didn’t mean Lestan was chasing after her—and so his muzzle dipped in silent agreement.

“Akavir,” he offered quietly, his eyes sliding over to the silver woman. “And that’s Moss.” He paused, considering the girl’s words. “Moss, if you could escort her to Lestan? I’m going to go check out that way,” he motioned his muzzle in the direction of the emberwood, where the girl had indicated.