Ouroboros Spine The air is warm, my heart is cold

He was far enough away to be of no threat, but close enough to discern subtle movement. He thought, briefly, that she was smiling. The corners of his own lips twitched as if to mirror the expression, but Tryphon was still too shy, too nervous. With a slouching walk, and curving crescent neck which made his head level almost with his elbows, he crept a little closer. Then a little more. On one hand he did not wish to disturb her — she seemed at peace with her thoughts — but having company wasn't so bad. 

Maybe he was just desperate for attention.

The boy sniffed the air, showed feigned interest in a nearby tree as he crawled beside it. Then, feeling the unfortunate pull in his extremeties to urinate right then and there against the tree, Tryphon felt a wave of embarrassment and paused a second. He looked at the soil and seemed to be very interested in the roots of that specific tree, and once the urge passed, he poked his nose out from behind the copse and peeked at her. This time, he managed a shy little smirk.