Duskfire Glacier embracing the starlit fate

Woow you write novels @_@ shoves tiny posts under rug.

Posie startled as soon as the stranger's voice reached him; he hadn't realized how close he was to another wolf. Almost instantly, his feather boa of a tail snaked down between his hocks, with the tip curling against his belly. His head bobbed down, as if he had been struck, while his ears - and every other piece of him - gave every physical manifestation of submission possible. He turned his attention away from the glacier to coyly watch the stranger, although the size of his eyes did not change. "O-oh, I didn't not-t-t-t-ice you there." The cold made him stutter (or was that fear?).

A strained silence (strained according to Posie) spanned between the two of them, then. After a handful of minutes, Posie tried to drum up enough courage to speak - but he was tongue-tied, initially. His mouth opening and closing like a hinge, trying to find something to say in case Primrose had interrupted something important.

"Do you c-c-come here often?" Nice try, pipsqueak. If only the cold hadn't made communication so hard! (Except, the cold was only one piece of the puzzle that resulted in Posie's awful social skills). He swallowed nervously, finding comfort in the warmth of his own saliva versus the dry chill of the northern air, and glanced back towards the glacier. Play it cool. Play it... Cool...