Cerulean Cape where the moon is made of gold

He thought he saw something in her face for a split second. Something that was there one moment, gone the next. Like the flicker of a shooting star. He wasn't sure, and let it slide.

She did not speak which he would have found odd had he not witnessed her earlier dance. The girl could communicate well enough with her body and he did not think too hard about it. Screech was still skeptical — he trusted just enough to grab the meat with his teeth and give it a tug, only to release it when the sand shifted beneath the shape and it rolled awkwardly towards him.

The boy was not nimble. He hopped back a step and was soon straddling the gift betwixt his forelimbs, his ears fanning either side of his head in an awkward display. Upon glancing at her, she had become a black shape upon the sand. He saw the glimmering of her eyes - like the sea that churned just out of reach - and he held her gaze for a bit too long to be considered polite by wolf terms.

She was just so... Different. So abstract from everything he had experienced; so delicate looking but so powerful with every movement, saying so much without a word. In some ways Coelacanth was a comfort because Screech did not feel like he had to talk at all. She was kind, and she was present, without asking questions.

He turned his attention upon the meat and tore in to it, finding the exterior hide to be rubbery and tough but the meat beneath those initial layers to be fatty and sweet. Screech made swift work of a smaller chunk that he'd cleaved from the rest, and paused once it had been devoured to look at her again. Somewhat sheepishly he murmured, um, thank-you.