Fox's Glade i'm sippin' on my syrup, movin' slow, but i'm still rushin

She wasn't prepared for a voice at her ear, and without hearing the word, Tail acted on pure instinct. The yearling spun, teeth gnashing with a snarl of warning as she skidded backwards. It took one heartbeat, two, before the yearling realized what she was looking at. A wolf; white with an oddly blue nose, but a living and breathing wolf. Her guard did not drop completely, but her body relaxed visibly. She laughed, despite the potentially tense situation, then said, I'm sorry. I thought you were a ghost.

Knowing how stupid that sounded, considering she didn't even believe in such things, Tail laughed again. Shit, I don't know what's gotten into me. Her posture then relaxed into submission, as the youth did her best to appear non-threatening. I'm Tail, and I mean no harm.