Meadowlark Prairie a whisper of silk

200th post for you~!

It was surprisingly easy for the yearling to forget his size. Times when he was needed to fight were few and far between, given that he was a gentle creature in nature, not yet influenced by his testosterone; the only times he truly fought were when his family was in danger, and he’d yet to be forced into said situation. So when the female lowered her head and whined, he slowed to an eventual stop, cocking his head to the side as he stared her down. He sniffed again, drawing in as much air as he could, but could find nothing—she was alone. As far as he could tell, there was no pack backing her, which begged the question: what was she doing there? Was she unaware of the troubles she could find herself in, should she stick around? He didn’t know and he didn’t ask.

Stealing a few steps closer, he huffed out a soft wuff and let his chest drop down towards the snow, bowing. After a few slow waves of his tail, he straightened himself back up, eyes never leaving her whilst he hoped to see some sort of change in her demeanour. He had no interest in harming her, realising that she wasn’t the enemy—he was pretty sure, anyways.