Bramblepoint Bring that summer on your shoulders

The tension was still palpable as silence reclaimed the air between them. Doleful silver eyes begged to meet those gems he'd loved so much, willing for the cold around her body to lift and allow her to move. Switfly, as though a powerful spell had suddenly broken, she turned her head to see him, and Shrike lowered his head slightly, tail swinging calmly between his hocks. It broke his heart to see her so fearful, and for a moment he wondered if she'd forgotten him. Why else would she stay so still? Why else would she have been so fearful, unless he'd become a stranger in her eyes?

His suspicions were swept aside when she finally spoke, her soft voice trembling and hoarse, but it was clearly his name she had spoken. There was still a look of wild fear in her features, but it seemed to fade into a profound sorrow when she spoke again, and her whole body began to quake. Was she ashamed? For some reason, he thought her fear seemed to stem from guilt- and for the first time, Shrike actually wondered if she had left on purpose. Perhaps he had been too close, too much, following the death of her father. Shrike had never even considered that she would have left voluntarily- having found a tuft of her fur and spatters of her blood as a farewell note. Now, though, he started to wonder- especially given the words she had just spoken. 

Still, if there was anything to forgive, it had already been forgiven. While she stayed rooted in place, he moved forward, ears turning back respectfully as he moved with sure steps, but at a speed which showed caution; he wanted to be near her, but as soon as she flinched or made any sign she did not want him, he would stop. "Found you," came the warm, relieved reply as he closed the distance between them, praying she would not turn him away.