Dawnlark Plains I'd kill for a Nobel Peace Prize

The way her mood shifted was almost comical, from easy conversation to wide-eyed. . .alarm? Excitement? "Uh, I--" he made to answer her question, but she'd already cut him off with her parting phrase, flitting away, her den naught but a few scooped-out hollows in the cold earth.

Shale watched her leave, confusion plain as day on his face. Then, with a shrug, he turned and began to dig, losing his mind in concentration on the task at hand. It wasn't really altruism on his part--he relished the distraction--but the woman should at least have a bed to sleep in, for when the nights were cold.

He worked for several minutes before stepping back, having made a respectable dent in the slope. Shale nodded once, glanced toward where she'd ran off, and walked away, leaving it for another time.