Lion Head Mesa Running is a victory

Pipit found the young she-wolf's complimentary blustering to be quite endearing. She'd never been the shy sort herself, but she was used to the awkwardness of others— especially in the face of her own proposed boldness. Her tail picked up its slow pace, flinging itself double-time as she relished vainly in the compliment. "Oh, well aren't you sweet," she purred, daring to extend her nose for a quick boop on the chocolate yearling's slender chin. "But you can't possibly mean that with a pair of eyes like yours. I'm afraid I'm getting jealous." Pipit, the shameless flirt!

She had long come to terms with her own flexible sexuality. she had a taste for all wolves and could find something to compliment in the ugliest of mugs— not that the stranger standing before her carried an ugly bone on her body. But Pipit was mostly just glad not to be alone; not in this desolate place. "I hope my awful baying didn't wake you or something. I know it's late, but I was feeling pretty lonely."