Deepwood Weald Time to take time, for spring will turn to fall

A soft breeze stirred the pure white fur across June's shoulders, but otherwise she was motionless as Dante circled to face her. He was even more daunting head-on, and she began to rethink her bold approach. Her paws shifted as though to carry her backward and away, but she paused, uncertain. Her tail pressed close to her hocks in deference and her mantle shuddered fearfully, but the Silvertip youth desperately needed food, and Dante looked like the kind of man who was capable of finding it for her.

"D-do you have a moment to spare? I'm starving. Maybe... maybe we could find something, share it?" she asked through a shiver. FitzDutiful would've been ashamed of his daughter, begging a stranger for a bite to eat, but June was still a child at heart and honour was not yet tightly woven to her heart. She was a virtuous and innocent thing, but she was not above begging when the need was as it was.