Totoka River krebs cycle

Short phone post. ♥

A soft and fragile humming burbled tunelessly within the little Groenendael’s shuttered throat, bespeaking her contentment with her new name and her affection for her lapis-eyed companion. Already the inky ingénue had furnished a place within her wounded heart for Starbuck alone, charmed and enchanted as she was by her agemate’s tactile nature and gentle ebullience. Her tapered muzzle reached forward again and again, inkdark crown bobbing as she nodded vehement agreement — the berries were delicious. The whup-whup-whupping of the Donnelaith girl’s tail was oddly comforting; without a flock to tend to or a pack to run with — and most especially, without her twin at her side — the heartsore sheepdog cross had little to buoy her burgeoning weariness. There rested upon her thin shoulders a weight that she had never known before, and it grew heavier with each added hurt. Suddenly overwhelmed by her loneliness, Coelacanth turned her finely-sculpted head toward the similarly-sized female and, if Starbuck allowed it, aimed to bury her nose against one cinnamon-spiced shoulder.