King Elk Forest i will paint you in silver; i will wrap you in cold

does not! took some liberties here re: nat's distance

nathaniel rochester had been avoiding mona mayfair.
knowing how prone he was to long lapses of what she felt to be melancholy, the girl had left him to his own devices, but as the days wore on, the yearling felt within her the loss of the man's company. she considered all she had recently said or done; had she turned him away somehow? gruff as he was, nathaniel's streak of gentle nature was silvered and open to mona, but perhaps .. perhaps she had been unsufferable.
why would he avoid her, however? the girl's worry began to turn to irritation, then to anger —a fortnight, and scarcely a word, and she dared not ask what weighed upon his heart so heavily. but mona was young, freshly wounded by nathaniel's withdrawing. thus, the nuro set off this day to find the man.
her quick steps and lowered muzzle found swiftly the trail of his scent; by the time his broad back came into view, mona was stalking toward the soldierly male, abristle, murkwater eyes showing their true emerald fire. "nathaniel," she blurted, at once both shocked and satisfied by the coldness of her tones. "why did you ... why haven't ..." 
her eyes brimmed with frustrated tears, and mona bit her lip before attempting again. "you haven't said a word to me! i've done nothing to you!" or so she hoped. in her righteous anger, the grave went quite unnoticed.