Stavanger Bay she brought the sugar and the mint

The witch doctor's bounding ceased the moent she hear his tenuous response; she hadn't expected him to answer, and her heart soared as the call gathered strength. Search at an end, the fleet-footed witch gave up her bounding with a strangled yap of joy, and continued toward her quarry at a sprint.

Even when she reached the pale and pitch male, her paws would not give up the chase. Doe danced around the pale wolf until the butterflies migrated from her paws and took her heart on one last flight before settling down somewhere in her belly. All the while, a torrent of words poured from her mouth - in song, in breathless wonder - she praised his pretty voice, his brilliant coat, his pointed ears and yellow eyes. All too quick for even her to follow, but all still stemming from the heart.

Remembering herself, Doe turned in one quick circle and blinked her eyes hard.

"We're going to make the plum whiskey," she yapped, tongue lolling out as her body caught up to her mind. Only then did she pause to truly take in her quarry.

He smelled like the ocean, as always, but expecially so today. Doe's nose twitched in wonderment as she thought after what he might've been up to, but she decided not to ask. There will be time for that later, she thought, but not while there is work to be done. Still, curiosity burned through the butterflies still left in her stomach, and she gazed upon his guant features, wondering why she was bound to surround herself with such silent creatures.

He just needs a chance to be heard, she told herself firmly, remembering his howl.