Swiftcurrent Creek It's just movement

Would super appreciate it if yall could let @Akavir post first but after that, free for all <3

Swiftcurrent Creek: where it all began. The thread of his life started and ended here, this quiet creek tucked into a quiet valley in the middle of Fuckall, Nowhere. AKA The Teekon Wilds. Zephyr stalked along the border in a disgruntled and distinctly feline manner, criticizing his birth home in his thoughts with a scathing affection reserved only for childhood. Funny, how nostalgia couldn't quite sweeten the bitterness of old anger, a feeling left out to cool over years so that the heat was lost, and now all that remained was something thick and sticky and bound indelibly. If it sounded gross, it was because it felt gross. It felt like being dirty in a way that would never come clean.
So maybe he should have turned away then, but he didn't. Ever a willful creature, the ice wraith planted himself at the unfamiliar border and howled. He wanted to see who lived here, who had dared to come stake their claim on this haunted ground. It wasn't that he wanted it for himself, or even that he felt any particular way about the presence of others. It was only that he needed to see it for himself, to make it real; the faces of strangers in his childhood home. Zephyr found he couldn't quite picture it.

Akavir was a shadow stalking along the quiet of the wintered grounds. Restless in certain ways, he was eager for the snows to begin to melt—for the thaw to come and to make plans accordingly—primarily, with his goal of finding this place called Akashingo.

For now, his attention was drawn by the silver wolf who called at their borders, and he swept forward, his stocky presence commanding to be noticed as his pale champagne eyes swept over the other—unable to decipher anything from their expression. “Welcome,” he offered in a low rumble, prowling closer now, his nose lifting in the air to test the scent of the other.

A dark wolf answered his call, a man who seemed almost... familiar. But Zephyr had never met him, he was certain of that. He dipped his head, but the gesture was perfunctory. Welcome; no, Zephyr did not feel welcome here. He wasn't certain he wanted to, but something kept him rooted in place.
I was born here, He said, without preamble, as if commenting on the weather. My father led the pack. I buried my mother next to the creek. I thought I would never come back. It didn't matter what the man said; Zephyr wasn't looking for answers. He just wanted someone to know. It didn't feel right, that they should live here without knowing.

LMK if you want me to change anything about this post re description. <3

Expecting something along the lines of a greeting in what he assumed would be a normal, socially pleasant conversation was perhaps his own fault, and when the wolf—a musuclar woman?—before him instead dipped right into what he assumed was an explanation for her presence, and he felt the beginnings of a small headache preen at his temples.

A quick gauge, studying the other—it was easy to see they were likely close in age, and so he chuffed, his muzzle lifting in his usual assessment. “I was also born here. My parents built this pack before placing the mantle upon another and taking leave to deal with…. Themselves.” To save themselves from a rather savage divorce.

So, this was likely one of the children that had also been from one of the other members of the pack—Kavik? Still, Akavir’s memory was fuzzy at best during those early days. Uncertain of the others intentions, he motioned toward the creek. “Did you come here to visit your mother, then?”