Firefly Glen I've been looking at the stars tonight

The crunch and rustle of foliage underfoot doesn't draw June's attention the way it should. Such an innocently pure creature is she that these signs of potential danger fail to raise an alarm within, so while she becomes aware of Panther in her subconscious by his nearness, the normal reaction to being approached so openly is absent in Humility. There is no shock or fear or alarm in her. Her mind and eye both are drawn inexorably to the spiralling fireflies, her heart pure tranquility, and everything about her is serene grace as she slowly turns to face Panther. The only indication that June isn't some wise woman with a firm hold on her emotions is the way her eyes dart from the deep blue-black of the other wolf's face to the winking bugs beyond him.

Focus, she tells herself, drawing a deep and steadying breath as she studies Panther. He melds with the shadows of the glen so that his figure is indiscernible and almost spectral with the play of firefly's light upon it, his blue eyes the only tangible thing about him. She focuses on those, but then drops her gaze when it becomes uncomfortable; she has developed that instinct, at least. Panther's apology goes right over her head—she's too busy watching a firefly crawl along the bladed edge of a fern to really hear him—but his exclamation draws her attention and she glances up, eyes wide with a child-like wonder that doesn't suit a yearling.

"They're so pretty," she breathes softly, wagging her tail as she shimmer of fireflies transfixes her once more.