Bearclaw Valley you were not made to be understood, you were made to be experienced

Chasing her was fun.

Tackling her was fun.

Just being around her was fun.

Alexander wasn’t used to this, not yet, but he was getting there. Each moment spent with her brought with it something new, whether it be an experience, emotion, or something else, and he was genuinely enjoying it—enjoying her. But at the same time, he was still himself, oftentimes oblivious to others and their feelings, thus preventing him from picking up on her discomfort. He just moved his body along with her’s, leaning closer to and nipping at her all the while. He gladly would have continued this new game—why should he have any qualms with it, when he was the one on top—if not for her shift in positions, which both confused and excited him; the latter feeling he tried to and succeeded with ignoring, the lure not there.

The albino rose up higher off of her as she was nearly free, helping her along the rest of the way. And when she tried to mimic his earlier decision by crashing into him, he moved along with the force behind her body, flopping over into the snow. He did not roll onto his back—he couldn’t bring himself to go that far—but he did remain with his side pressed into the white blanket, tail wagging as he eagerly awaited her next move.