Blacktail Deer Plateau Don't let the sun outshine you

Sergeant Horatio Finnian Sanders. What a proud name! Diane couldn't keep the smile from her face, her cheeks burning in both effort and shyness. His fur wasn't just golden, but his aura was too, and the girl had never been praised like this or felt so utterly beheld under another's clement gaze. It made her spine tingle, but in an unfamiliar way— not in any way resembling the apprehension she was used to, or her rare bouts of mouse-fury. This was a feeling she couldn't identify, or find a name for in her head. "Goldhawk," she repeated reverently. Shorter, but no less magnificent than his full title. "Or Sir Horatio..." She tasted the feel of his true name too, and found herself giggling. "Oh, now I'll never decide what I'd like to call you," she said exasperatedly. "You.. you have such beautiful names!" And she was almost certain she'd never met a wolf with quite so many names and titles as he.

"I must repay you for saving me back there," she said, succeeding a pregnant pause between them that had been mostly spent with her staring into his wooded eyes, feeling at a loss. Could he hear how erratically her heat beat? She certainly hoped he couldn't; and Diane swallowed the frightening thought. "All I know of snakes is how poisonous they are— I.. I could've been hurt— and then you..." Came out like the sun to chase the clouds of rain away.

Diane shook her head. "Anyway, I must show you my appreciation!" she repeated, not willing to let this go with a mere "thank you" from her end. "Hm, now what... Oh, oh, I know what I can do for you! Wh-what's your favorite food? Your absolute favorite! I'll catch it for you," she beamed, aware that her specialty lie in birds and fish, but if he liked something too big for her to catch on her own, then she would certainly go through the motions of finding help to get him what he wanted anyway. Certainly the wolves of the Ridge would help her bring down a goat or deer, if it meant thanking the wolf who had saved their own.