Hushed Willows that's nice, that's a nice sentiment

A soft shudder rippled through Buchanan as he felt her bury her nose against his throat, and though he missed her presence again when she retreated from him, this time it was calm and clearly not a trigger reaction to outside stimuli he let her create the distance. Though he was far from cold, the begrudgingly familiar chill settled against his throat, where her nose had been buried mere moments before. Was it possible to miss someone's physical presence? Was it normal to crave that physical closeness? Buchanan didn't know. She spoke, claiming his attention as it was tugged from his contemplation, his mercurial gaze settling upon her. His ears cupped forth atop his skull as she made her inquiry. For a moment he was confused until she clarified that she was speaking of the walk, though she looked away from him. It was a curious gesture. “Of course,” Buchanan agreed in a soft voice, though whether they were talking about the walk or something else, or perhaps even both he didn't know but the answer would remain the same throughout all the potential meanings her inquiry could have held.

“We'll take it slow,” He gestured for her to take the lead with a sweep of his muzzle, lowering it. It was early (or late?) after all and Buchanan doubted they would run into any sort of trouble at the borders, besides as it was easy to assume that no one else was awake Buchanan didn't think either of them had anything overly pressing that required them to rush the patrol. He inhaled deeply and let it out slowly offering her a soft, reassuring smile.