Noctisardor Bypass my throat is a beehive pitched in the river

For one blissful moment, Harlyn was full to burst with happiness. She breathed in deeply, her nostrils tickled with white fur. She had missed this fur, had missed this scent. In that moment, she felt certain tha t she would do whatever she had to in order to bring him home, to keep him with her. Somehow it would work. Somehow they'd find a way.

Harlyn felt him pulling away and the movement made her ache physically. She lifted her gaze to his, hurt and confused, until the moment when she finally realized something was wrong with what her senses had been trying to tell her from the beginning. The eyes were too blue, the muzzle too slender. The frame blanketed in porcelain was too small, too willowy and soft. And the nose that sat upon the too feminine face was like a lump of coal upon a snowman and not a blueberry seated in cream.

"Oh my goodness..." Harlyn gasped as her nose gave her the final truth: this wasn't Luke, "I'm.. I'm so sorry, I thought you were someone else. Oh my... I can't believe I did that. I'm so, so sorry." The Druid shook her head as heat flooded her cheeks. What was wrong with her?