Barrow Fields castles in the sand, cradles in the trees

“Hey!”

Coelacanth turned her delicate head mid-jeté, her Neptune eyes tracking the golden-eyed lamb as he surged through the fields. Her natural surefootedness served her well as she dropped softly to the earth, keenly aware of where to place each catlike paw, and danced delightedly to meet him. Oddly enough, they shared the same unspoken thought: she was curious as to why he was here and not on the mountain with the other grayscale wolves who resembled him and cared for him so. “Mou,” she whispered, and closed the distance immediately. She had become comfortable enough around the younger male not to fear his rebuke, and therefore made to nuzzle at his cheek and lick at his chin without hesitation, making sure to approach from the left side.