Swiftcurrent Creek who almost died of a broken heart

The man led the pack with a distinct sternness that he also hoped brokered kindness to those that understood—internally, he waged a war with what he would do regarding a pack under a hungry Pharaoh that potentially held his daughter captive politically. Soon, he would seek those of his old pack to interrogate them of their involvement with Akashingo and why Lilitu had paid the price—

—and yet when Jakoul crooned for him, beckoning him forward, the shadow runner was once more drawn back to his own youthful days, so unsure and uncertain when his first litter had been presented to him. He was nervous for this meeting—and he held back a scoff at himself.

His eyes sought her first—his steps as delicate as could be, given his stocky form. She had kept them close, accepting no visitors spare Reverie and he had respected such. She blinked against the greyscape land—the thaw was coming, but it would be many weeks still before the land would truly blossom.

Then, he paused—pale eyes flitting over a trio of darkness, and a certain flicker of pleasure and wondered gleamed from him, his own rumble drawing from his throat—his muzzle reaching out to graze a kiss to her cheek, her muzzle, her crown—should she allow it.