Blacktail Deer Plateau your scent is a sweet felony

Coelacanth’s time in the Teekons had changed her, and although the new scars she bore were small and easily ensconced in swathes of inkdark silk, the greatest transformation could be evinced in her behavior. The thundering of faraway paws would have brought her younger, less sullied self joy; now, though, she feared what she could not see and flattened herself to the earth with Neptune eyes squeezed shut. Fortunately, Catori broke the silence not only with the glad drumming of her paws but with a sweetly murmured, “Seasprite,” — and her baby cousin rallied and rebounded with fierce alacrity. “Oh, it is you!” lilted the song of her reed-thin body as she flowed to all fours and fairly levitated, entangling herself with the girl who looked and smelled and tasted of home.

Pert pink tongue darted from her tapered muzzle to bathe the pale, slender jaw in a confusion of kisses. A soft, kittenish purring took up residence in the emotion-thick column of her throat, ticking like a metronome thrown off kilter, and fought for the narrowed space with an entanglement of airy whimpers. She broke away, unable to stand in one spot, to zip about in widening circles and stop abruptly with little rhyme or reason. Rump in the air, shoulders dipped down low, she threw back her finely-sculpted head with wide, love-crazed eyes, and allowed her feathered plume to stick out, ramrod straight, like a bold exclamation point. She had All the Excitement! For a prolonged period of time she alternated between smashing herself lovingly into whatever part of Catori she could reach and then zipping away to do the Crazy Dog Face; and then she “howled” — tipping back her head and making these faces with the sound on mute.