Phoenix Maplewood i'll wind up working in the thick of it

heck you are too nice

she hadn't expected their tousle to turn out the way it had -- he was scrappy, and diligent -- he parried her maneuvers with a practiced, almost subdued strength. indra was not stupid -- she knew in a true battle of strength, whose dominion would come. not hers.

all the same she admired the tempered grace of each snarling rebuff, each carefully placed shoulder -- when she found him nearly underneath her she sprung back, a wide grin on her muzzle. she was about to wait for him to rise and then snake after him with hurried nips, only something instinctively told her to cease fire. a smell.

at first she hardly noticed it, so intermittent the scent was -- but as she looked around them she realized they were on the cusps of the giant, red-dappled maplewood.

her gaze slid to phoenix in silent apprehension, and she sucked in a deep breath. "well, this is it." she said, still troubled by the occasional scent the breeze scantily offered. she wondered what he would think of it -- would he be disappointed to see the trees, stripped bare of their brilliant majesty? or would he recognize the promise nestled among the bark, secluded in the rich loam -- a hidden bosk on the tip of bloom after a desolate and trying winter?