Blackfeather Woods this is what god did when he wanted to love you

That morning, as the male made his way along the border, he found something to be out of place; on the northern border, where his attention lingered, there was a scent. Though not recent, it was still strong and called out to him, the exact cause something that he recognised with ease; this was not his first time catching wind of it in life, though the producer was a new one. His patrol was abandoned and he removed himself from the border altogether, delving back into the woods whilst his nose sought more recent scents; he was not some child that could not control himself, but he felt the need to locate her, if only to ensure she was not claimed by someone else. So the moment he found a trail worth following, he did exactly that.

Before long, he could hear the gentle current of the creek, and then spotted the white mass standing within it. As the space between them lessened, he slowed—stopped, too, eventually—and glanced at their surroundings, searching the shadows before returning his gaze to her form. “Shivali,” he called in greeting, but did not approach; he kept away from the water’s edge, giving her a great deal of space.