Moonspear lawmother

He came forward, drawing closer, attention momentarily caught on the thorny bushes and the sweet fruit they bore. She tried not to swoon as he licked the unruly bead of ruby from his lips, feeling her cheeks flush beneath his calm, unfaltering gaze. His voice was pleasant to her ears, but summoned no words to her lips at first; silenced by a light awkwardness brewed by those first words, a statement and not an inviting question. She wondered what he thought of seeing her, a stranger- and yet, his tone implied her newness did not offend him. 

Her low, crooked tail waved at her hocks, perceiving an invitation implied rather than spoken. The suggestion of knowing one another drew her forward, tufted ears back and trembling lightly, light trepidation in her step; like the first doe to emerge into a meadow after sunset. She kept her gaze directed toward the lines upon his shoulders, catching the glint of magenta in her side-eye as she offered herself to be scented, murmuring:

"Peace be."