The Bracken Woods we were diamonds, now we’re dust

“It’s okay,” Mulherin insisted and Masquerade sucked in a deep breath, holding it in and nodding before letting it out slowly.

Her mind quieted some, reassured by his words and the nudge that accompanied them. She slanted her red muzzle to butt her head against his shoulder. She lingered there through a few more inhales and exhales, savoring the contact.

I also owe you an apology for the word vomit, then and now, she said once she sat upright again, nodding at his suggestion to head back toward the ridge. These woods aren’t good for much else anyway.

She pondered his words as she turned and guided Mulherin along the deer path. Did he already suspect she wasn’t just hanging out on the ridge but, in fact, claiming it for her own? Her long tail twitched as she moved in front of him, the narrowness of the track forcing them to walk single file momentarily.

Has anything else exciting happened, aside from your promotion? Masque asked, turning her face to look at him over her shoulder.