Swiftcurrent Creek tongue-tickling bubble juice

Silently did the man back away from the drinking spot and, just as silently did Olive approach and assume his position at the water’s edge. The lamb leant her head towards the sleeted creek and began to lap up the water, curling her rosebud tongue backwards and pulling the sweet liquid into her mouth — all the while, her attention trained on him out of the side of her jade stare. It wasn’t that she was overly nervous, or that he gave her any reason to believe he meant her harm; she just no longer had the naiveté to believe in a being's inherent innocence. Evil was real, and evil sometimes hid behind masks of kindness.

With her thirst thoroughly sated, Olive raised her silversilk crown and allowed herself to turn to face him fully, stepping away from where the mud of the riverbank made her cold. She was silent, as was he, and took a devilish seat right where she was — a good-natured challenge for him to break the silence. It wasn’t often that she met strangers and introductions weren’t immediately exchanged, so she wondered what would happen next.