(m) the lightning we generate without restraints

Thistle allowed a small grin of triumph grace her face and she returned his lick with a nuzzle of her own. She watched as he became heavily tired, which she had known he would she was not a fool. She had made a compromise knowing he would not take it and even if would the plants would make him too tired to anyway.

She settled down beside her and curled up against his side gently and hesitantly. His fever was still there though she was certain at least for now it wasn't as violent as it could be. So she felt relatively safe being in this close proximity that he would not lash out in fever induced sleep and hurt her. She decided she needed a nap too anyways she was very tired.

Fade*