Dawnlark Plains a bird in the hand is worth a lotte in the bush

I seem to be in short post mode. ♥ Sorry!

“I sing a little,” confessed the rime-eyed crowbane, and Lotte’s moonbright eyes widened in pleased surprise as she drew nearer to him. “Your voice has a price, does it?” she asked rhetorically, a throaty chuckle tumbling heartily from her lips. For a moment she pretended to think it over, wickedly allowing the grayscale wolf to linger in suspense, but she relented quickly. She was impatient to hear him sing, her dark mood banished by their silliness and the utter ease of their conversation, and she leaned in with a low, enticing whisper: “for your loyalty, urhea soturi, I will give you two.” Thus saying, she edged closer to him and softly kissed the satin of his gray-furred cheek, drawing back to repeat the gesture on the opposite side. It never occurred to her that her playful ministrations might be misconstrued, or that Arturo might take exception.