Wapun Meadow As a shut bud that holds a bee

another's voice turns her head, and her gaze falls on the pale, graceful form of a boy. his fur is the thick, northern pelt of an arctic wolf, and shadows encircle his optics. she pauses, looking to him. "Hey, boy."  she echoes, though there is little lightness in her words. she finds herself tiring quickly of the cheerful, soft facade she hides very well behind at the Bypass. here, she sees no reason to keep it up in the slightest.