Dragoncrest Cliffs The Flower which grows best in the dark

Cecil sensed her before he saw her, her scent and sounds easily distinguised in the nights air. Tail twitching with anticipation, he wanted to talk to her, and hear her voice. Yet as he watched her out of the corner of his eye, he could see she made no intention to join him. Perhaps he had made a mistake in showing her here, to his pack, his family. Cecil admittedly didn't know her very well, and yet had found a kinship within her spirit that he couldn't explain, he wondered if perhaps there was a reason she was on her own, aside from her visions. He believed that he could help her find her place within the pack, even though he was still finding his own way.

How ws she settling in?

Did she need anything?

Why didn't she wanted his company?

Had he said something he shouldn't have?

Why is she so thirsty?

Is she sick?

Perhaps I should say something.

Perhaps I shouldn't say anything.

Does she need space?

Maybe? Maybe? Maybe?

Everything was running through his head at a mile a minute, however outwardly the only visible sign of his hesitation would be his mouth. Openning, and shutting, before openning, and shutting once again. The his blossum coloured tonge dancing in his mouth, and yet no words were uttered. Instead he just cleared his throat.

How lame. He thought before turning to look at her.