Greatwater Lake A silent heart ticking under the ground

I hope the move goes smoothly! :)

This shouldn't affect much of anything but I made a few tweaks to my original post.

He sank down onto his belly, his forepaws just an inch shy of the water's edge, and became lost in his thoughts. An hour passed, then another. A third might have run away on him as well if the sound of footfalls hadn't caused him to snap suddenly out of his fugue state. Blinking his dry eyes, Peregrine turned his head slowly, his heart skipping a beat when he saw a familiar form drifting his way along the shore.

Pushing himself into a sitting position, Peregrine remained stoic and silent until she reached him. He sensed a certain nervousness about her, yet she seemed to be in better spirits than the last time. Of course, now he was the one feeling unwell, a matter which Fox pointed out with a rather crass question. It caused a short burst of laughter to erupt from the swarthy male's mouth. It was both brief and rather dry, though his eyes regarded her with something like gratitude.

He usually guarded his secrets, shedding any burdensome thoughts only a few particular wolves, those closest to him: Osprey, Atticus or, of course, Hawkeye. But Osprey had been ill and Peregrine couldn't bring himself to discuss his mate with his brother, considering their brief love triangle of the past. And, of course, his mate had long since ceased to be a confidante. She was like a ghost in his life, flickering in and out of view. He recalled with sudden clarity the way she'd started pushing him away just after the girls' birth; he'd accepted it as typical exhaustion at the time but now, looking back, it all took on a more depressing aspect.

And then there was, of course, the strange chemistry Peregrine felt, the tension, whenever he saw Fox lately. Perhaps it was only one-sided; he was pretty certain it was. Now he wondered if his attraction was also due, at least in part, to the fact that he missed a romantic connection. He hadn't even realized it consciously until the past few days, yet all along, he'd likely craved companionship and maybe he'd sought it in the lively, sprightly she-wolf.

He mused over all these things in the space of a minute or two before answering, "There are no tree limbs lodged in my rectum, thank-you." He paused, then said almost offhandedly. "I look like this because I'm sitting here contemplating what to do about the fact that there's a distance between my mate and me that gives the gap between your two front teeth a run for its money," he quipped almost sadly. His cool eyes drifted toward her face, wondering if this highly personal admission would make her uncomfortable or, even more likely, make him uncomfortable for over-sharing with someone he called his frenemy.

Yet the discomfort never came, at least on his end, and that's when he realized that, somewhere along the line, Fox had become to him a genuine specimen of the wonder known as friendship.