Honeyed Pasture Coming Home

The other says something in their travels and Florence turns to look at her for a moment. With no other pretext and tone to match, she assumes it to be an introduction. Her ears fall back against her head as she realizes how long she takes but she dips her skull one with a hint of a smile. “Florence,” she says but nothing else. Her tail swishes a little back and forth, feeling too awkward to linger on the thought. She comes around the corner of a jutting cliff to find a series of caves.

“Hey, this way,” she calls over her shoulder as she bounds forward through the snow a few steps to investigate the openings further.