Emberflame Ridge Burning incandescently

Perhaps this would be a turning point. Something new cushioned in the ways of old. He didn't know why he acted this way with this specific individual; instinct called to him, and instinct prevailed. He was rooted to the spot while she reacted, his tail curling across his exposed underside as she loomed, and some kind of understanding was forged. And then Tryphon was suddenly animated. He was rolling and standing, clumsily settling to his haunches with her still above him, pressing his forehead against her chin and sliding it carefully along her throat - but he stopped, pulling back before it could bother her. He licked his lips, tasting winter, melting the snow which stuck to his face, and reached for her - deferring again and again with humble licks to her chin and cheeks wherever she permitted.

The ghost and the shadow. They could survive winter together - here among the willows, or beyond, where the mountains could serve as their fortress. He thought briefly on this, and turned to regard the cliffside as if to ask the question - ears turning towards her, then eyes, carefully watching her features. Before words could pass her lips (if she was one to speak, which now he doubted), he pulled back from her. He let out a small whine, and tired eyes drifted towards the mountain. Go? Or stay?