Porcupine Ridge Grab your passport and my hand

She silently wondered why he wasn't a fighter. He certainly had the size, although it took more than size to be a warrior or guardian. When he stated that getting clawed by a lynx would suck, she gave a small huff of laughter and replied, Yeah, it did. They might be small, but their claws still hurt just as much as any big cat. He asked if she was healer and she nodded her head. She was about to elaborate further, but they had reached the shore and she was momentarily distracted by his beautiful fur as he shook the water from it. When he was done, his hair stuck out adorably in all directions. She followed suit and shook the water from her coat as well, her hair sticking out much like his had.

She watched him lie down and when he invited her to lie in the curvature of his body, she gladly accepted, trotting over and snuggling up against him. The cave was chilly, and she took a second to soak up his warmth before finally answering his question. I am a healer. My mom taught me some things before I left home, and I've been trying to build on my knowledge, she explained. Unable to resist the urge to touch his molten pelt any longer, she reached over and began softly grooming the damp fur on the part of his neck that she could easily reach. She paused the grooming just long enough to inquire, Why do you ask? Once the question was asked, she promptly went back to work on his coat.