Blacktail Deer Plateau As the shadows fall

Atticus loved the night. Its serene beauty and silent calm were such a restorative change after the bustle and hubbub of the daytime. There was a rhythm to the night that soothed his soul and invigorated him; the symphonies of the frogs and crickets, the distant music of the night-birds, the stars glittering diamondlike in the velvety darkness above, the pale, ethereal glow of moonlight as it spilled across dewy, scintillating landscapes. He was a living shadow, midnight itself manifested on four fleet, silent paws. The blackness of his fur was flawlessly deep, blending seamlessly in with the darkness and shadows around him while ribbons of blue and silver moonlight danced and shifted on the angles and planes of his body. He was unquestionably a creature of the night.

And so was she. He smelled her long before he saw her, and only because she too was draped in a coat as dark as the space between the stars. He saw her limned in pewter moonlight and his heart quickened, adrenaline racing like ice-water through him. He did not know her well, but his brother's words had stirred an interest in him -- enough so that he felt nervous and jittery around her. "Blue Willow," he said softly in greeting as he padded toward her, his deep voice a dark rumble in the quiet summer air.