the sorting hat

TAKES A THOUSAND LIBERTIES.

She and her mate had found reprieve from the sun within the cool depths of this place and had decided it was well hidden enough that they would be safe in their rest. Up until the afternoon fell in its temperature they would linger. Tonravik rest with her muzzle over the neck of her mate presently, but rose when she felt a dryness in her throat. She nudged him, so he would know she stirred, and then moved toward a low, echoing noise that spoke of water coming from somewhere close.

Tonravik was in the cavern Casmir dwelt outside of in the present moment, not so far from the entrance to be unable to hear the sound of him in the hollow place that seemed to amplify sound. The entrance was covered with gnarled roots and shrubs among other things, well-hidden. She sniffed at the air, but was unable to detect anything but the sound of one coming closer. The stark black woman blended well with the darkness, and stepped deeper into it, ears pricked alertly and earthy eyes staring hard at the mouth that they had come in.