He'd disappeared from Wind Flower's meadow for some time, exploring the nearby areas and perhaps getting involved in a number of different things that he did not have words for. But he had a little time to, so he trod off, searching for her. 

Soot Teller would understand, he hoped.

Fallen Sun had missed the swift and strong wind in the wildflower meadow, the she-wolf he'd met. Wind Flower, the she-wolf, was like the stars at night had fallen and been put in her eyes, and his heart yearned for his friend. He wondered if she had given him a name in her mind, and if so, what was it? The golden man would get better at noises that made sense to others, to get the answer.

So he lowered his muzzle to the petal-covered ground and let scents fill his nose, in search for the one he desperately wanted to see again.

Being alone was arguably much easier than being in a pack. No drama, no tension, no responsibilities but keeping yourself alive. Sometimes Jasmine thought of hitting up the coast and seeing if there were any seafarers that way who were after these same kind of things. But thinking was as far as she ever got. The Valley still had a hold on her, and today, she found herself in Wapun Meadow again, with an all too familiar face.

He walked around with his nose to the ground, and though Jasmine thought of calling out to him, that again was as far as that thought went.

With a coy smile she lowered herself and stalked after him. Something bright burned inside her — a strange want for his company, but she assumed this was because he had been so easy when she’d met him first time around.

She didn’t even think about the season.

Fallen's nose was sharper than usual, and soon Wind Flower's scent came drifting to him. It smelled honeyed, as if she'd rolled in something sweet, and it made his heart burn for her company in ways he never quite thought it would. 

Did her scent always smell that pretty?

His paws drifted on clouds to the direction of her scent. Oh! Maybe he could show her the noises he'd learned, even if he had no idea what they meant. 

The golden man's tail wagged as he whined. 

aarrrnawwer?

She found him so quickly, even over the sweet summer smell of the wildflowers!

Hello friend! Jasmine laughed and gave up her little stalking game. After all, it seemed he had won. Sunfall rose through the tall grasses and found his way towards her, and she couldn’t help but notice how his eyes danced in new ways towards her. Ethereal, almost. Enticing.

She shook herself with a roll of her shoulders and a curious crook of her brow.

Hey, not bad! Did ya pick up some words while I was gone?

Arrna — arrnawer? Anywhere? I know where?

Try again, I’ll see if I can figure you out, seemed the easiest thing to say in response. She settled on her haunches in an easy slouch.

Her smile never left her.

He sat down, his eyes dancing between her and the space just over her... rather pretty... shoulder. Fallen Sun could do this, he could. His eyebrows furrowed. 

Rrrrnd... he paused, as if, instinctually, he knew it was two separate noises that made Wind Flower's name. Hrrrwrr. 

Was that it? Did she recognize her name? The sun-pelted man tilted his head to one side, his mouth closing to signify that was the end of his noises. 

Fallen looked at her, his muzzle almost immediately parting into a smile that had his tongue lolling out of it. Question darted in his eyes. Were his attempts at the Important Noises good enough for her?

He looked -- and sounded -- like he was trying real hard. Like, really, really hard. Like, really, really, really hard. Jasmine tried to sound the words out in her head but they made such little sense to her. Maybe if she'd known the words he was trying to say, it would have been easier to figure out his mumblings... but all she knew were the noises, and the noises meant very little to her.

Hmm, she mused anyway, even though she would definitely get whatever he was saying to her wrong. She'd never really been in this position before, and didn't want to insult him... but like, he was trying, so surely he wanted to learn? Wind power? she guessed with a laugh and a sheepish shrug. She was most certain that was not what he had said, but what a funny first thing that'd be to say!

He looked at her so expectantly, after all, like he had said something very close to his heart. His boyish smile made her belly buzz.

Wind.

That noise sounded right, though he couldn't... say it correctly. But strangely, it didn't annoy him as much right now.

The man decided to try a different approach. His focus shifted from Wind Flower to the petaled plants around them, even if tearing his gaze away from her hurt his stomach. His muzzle returned to the ground, only for a few heartbeats, the tiniest snapping of a stem heard in the quiet.  A flower for Wind Flower, maybe that will help?

He delicately sat the pretty yellow thing on her paws, his nose grazing her fur in the process. Fallen's belly burned at the touch. Had she always done that?

At any rate, he pressed his nose to her chest for a moment in a gentle touch. you. You are Wind Flower.

He gave her neither yes nor no. Only a bending of the head, the snapping of a stem. Power. Flower.

He rested the petals on her paws.

Oh.

Wind flower?

Jasmine still had no idea what he meant by that, or if he knew he was just stringing random words together. Did she have the heart to tell him? How could she? Her friend seemed so proud of the words he'd come up with for her, and they seemed important to him, in some incomprehensible way. She really couldn't --

It was in that span of a second’s thoughts that his nose grazed her, and she felt what must be lightning zap through her, from the place his muzzle brushed her, all the way up and through her sternum, until the electricity exploded in her chest and reached back down, all around.

Her breath caught in the pulse of his fire. That gentle hearth that wrapped about her, far sweeter than the flames of any other man she’d met.

Wind Flower, she breathed. Her. He had given her a name? And had he left to find words for the words in his head? He had given her whispers, but now, Wind Flower, she said again, hushed and urgent as she stared at him, with his wildfire fur and evergreen eyes, say it again. With words, and not whispers.

She had to know what his voice looked like.

He felt it, too. Every touch sent a new shiver down his spine, a good shiver, not a cold one. Warm. So warm, he wanted to keep her warm, her safe... he didn't know a thing about her, which was fair enough. He wanted her to be cared for.

In truth, the man knew little of words, and even less of proper pronunciation. He didn't know why others had it easier than he, this communication thing was foreign and harder for the silent wolf. But she looked so... happy to hear the two that bubbled into his rare thoughts, he could only imagine that she understood. There weren't many known noises; one could count them as toes could be counted on a single paw, and Fallen wanted to share every last noise he could with Wind Flower. 

She liked those noises; they seemed to take her breath away and give it back in an instant. Could he try to do it the way Noise Giver had shown him? Would that make her happier?

wwrnd... rwwwrinnn- come on, just like Noise Giver... over the tongue-

After a few more heartbeats of failure... he took his time, carefully thinking about each, and every, movement of his tongue. It was perhaps the hardest he'd ever thought about vocalizations, of the sounds that were so close and yet so far that it burned ire into his heart. But that wouldn't do for her, no. He didn't want irritation anywhere near her.

Careful, as if a duck had lain eggs at his paws and he had to step over them as not to break them. Take time, imagine and move his tongue to replicate the sounds of Noise Giver. A hoarse, yet youthful softness, unlike the sun-pelted wolf's coat and more akin to the forest in his eyes. Gentle. Uncertainty danced in his tone like leaves falling from trees before winter. A word, two words, maybe he could shoot for three?

Wind... Fl...Flouwher-

He struggled, but tried. Sharp whines pushing through into the cool summer day. She could see him thinking, silent but thoughtful. Persistent, determined.

She felt another shiver run through her, that a man would try so hard for her.

These thoughts were nonsensical but that hardly registered with the girl who ran with strangers through fields of wildflowers, and chased the waves with others.

And then, it came.

Gentle, as dew soaked moss caught sunlight in the early morning. As baby sparrows felt the air with downy wings. Tentative. Sweet. Soft evergreen rimmed with golden light.

His voice was the colour of newness. His voice was the colour of peace.

Something primal took hold of Jasmine. Rather than speak, she leaned into him and pushed her head against his chest. Breathed in, breathed him in.

Evergreen, mountain pine, the smell of the wilds, of grasses and sun.

He was everything easy, everything free, and she sought to wrap herself in him.

Honey. Wildflowers. The almost-faded scent of other wolves clung desperately to her fur, but her scent was like his own. Wherever Wind Flower gifted the world by standing is what lingered on her pelt. Fallen Sun lowered his muzzle to the top of her head and snuck a very quick lick. 

Her fur on his tongue was soft. She was very soft. 

His sides twitched, and the gentle man barely remembered how his mother had taught him to behave.

Honeysuckle, sweetness, sugar. 

Dew on the morning rain. 

He found himself again with a burning, uncontrollable desire to surround her in warmth - his warmth. To cuddle and make her feel like she was cared for, was important. To provide for her. Wasn't that what a man was for?

The warmth, he thought, would be a good place to start.

He kissed her.

He kissed her, and his touch sent fire through her heart — and yet, he was more gentle than any of the lost boys had been. He treated her like a wildflower, like someone who might break if he held her too hard —

She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so… so…

So much value. So much like a woman who might actually break, if she let all her guards finally fall away.

He would leave her. He would leave, and she would, too. It was the way things worked. They always left you in the end. That’s why you made yourself the first to leave.

But instead she fell deeper in his warmth, and his flame was like candlelight in lanterns in the countryside. Radiant, as the world fell to shadows. A beacon leading home.

He did not leave her, and neither did she.

The feeling of candlelight; the hearth glow of home.