Broken Antler Fen a graveyard of stars

@Ukulele | spiritualist thread

the evening is cool; the hoarfrost not yet having settled over the grasses and low lingering foliage as roswell stays out later than he usually does; despite that he has moved within the safety of the fen and away from the borders where he likes to spend most of his days. as the evening sky is painted with pastel colors of red wine, tangerine orange, and cotton candy purples. luckily, the sky is absent clouds and with dusk melting into night the stars wink at him from above; painted with the chaotic precision of a maestro.

beneath the moon's silver glow, reaching out like fingers against the blackthorn stripe along his spine, roswell soaks up the soft magic of the moon and starlight; champagne gold gaze lifted heavenward as he settles back on his haunches.

Lele had intended to have a very productive day, but a hunt from the previous day had worn her out more than she had anticipated. Around noon she had still not yet decided, whether to explore the lands more or stay put, and by afternoon it was clear that sleep was a better option. 

She woke several hours later, when the sun had already disappeared behind the horizon and cold of the evening had began to gnaw on her fingers. A stretch, a yawn, a glance around and a lazy thought on, what to do next. Hunger got the majority of votes and the she-wolf went out in the dusk to find the night-time critters. 

That's, how she came upon the young man, who was watching the stars. Lele stopped briefly to observe him and woofed a "good evening".