Morningside Cuesta isn't hope an animal?

There’s a few seconds of half-hearted squirming beneath the larger wolf that doesn’t really get her anywhere. The rumble from his chest vibrates where he touches her and her laugher slows, turning her green eyes in his direction as he refuses to let her up. She feels the beat of his heart through her own skin and she turns her head so that she can nip and lick at whatever she can: his muzzle, the top of his nose, his ear.

It all fades after a moment, before she’s even given a chance to question and feel differently about it. She does not even move when there’s a little laxity between the two of them and his struggling words, pinned ya cause a playful smile upon her face.

When she finally realizes there’s enough wiggle room to scoot from beneath him, she rolls over onto her belly and stands, her back connecting with the curve f her chest that prevents her from her full height. Awkwardly, she bends and shuffles forward out of his grasp and halfway turns around. “It was just luck,” she snorts, tail wagging to combat the tone of her words as she dances off several feet ahead.