7/25/2025, 10:40 PM
(This post was last modified: 7/25/2025, 10:41 PM by Silvercreek.)
![[Image: tumblr-7f82976b6f0737e4858fc1d3e6600064-...f-540.webp]](https://i.postimg.cc/QtHHdJNF/tumblr-7f82976b6f0737e4858fc1d3e6600064-40de92af-540.webp)
It had been a few days since he'd left the marshlands to the south. His fur had been often rumpled with dampness in the misty mire, his spine and shoulders draped with lily-pads and marsh reeds. Now, striding through the grasslands as the sun began to dip beneath the horizon, a simple glance at him revealed a crimped, dried-out pelt devoid of the natural decor he'd once adorned. Only his constant amphibian companion remained, the only splash of green against his pale coat besides the verdant gaze nestled within his features.
He supposed, since he'd left the sanctuary of the swamps, he ought to look presentable once again. Silvercreek strode to the crest of a gentle-rolling hilltop, slumping to his haunches to begin the task of coaxing his fine-textured fur into silken submission. The sunset was lovely, unfettered by a thick crown of trees and vines - out here, the fading light could cascade freely across the grasslands. The fiery light glinted on the ends of the man's fresh-washed, pale fur; catching the rose-gold tones that kissed the bridge of his muzzle faintly.
He wished he could enjoy it all properly, but Silvercreek couldn't help but glance furtively over his shoulder from time to time. He knew, of course, that if the Haven trolls had his scent, they'd be on him with all the gnashing teeth and baying of a pack of hounds. He'd have plenty of warning to run, even if he might not have a chance of escaping. A fact that did nothing to ease the restless anxiety bundled in his chest, as he raked his teeth through a knot just above his sternum.
As if summoned by his worries, hoofbeats stomped nearby as an unnoticed buck was spooked into bolting away from some unknown threat. Silvercreek glanced up from his task, gaze flitting between the deer and the copse of trees he expected a half-army of vengeful wolfkind to burst from.
It was just one, though, but that failed to stop him from bolting to his feet.
aw, but perhaps Lyra