Bitterroot Valley You got some shit to say and I'm hear to listen

He curls around her and Liri can't stop herself from rubbing her muzzle idly through his fur - absent-mindedly but as if to be closer to him. The fae doesn't really feel any different than before she'd given herself to Kavik; she does feel a morph in their relationship. They've become something new, whether they're now lovers or mates she doesn't know. The Blackfoot stores it away with other things to contemplate - where they're going, what they'll do now after losing their way to the Sanctuary - all to be brooded over at a later time.

He doesn't say it back but Liri didn't expect him to. In time, she will; for now, she's satisfied with his actions. Kavik cares for her, loves her, this she knows. She can feel it as surely as she can feel her heart beat.

"No," she chuckles softly, nipping his ear affectionately. "I enjoyed myself," it's quiet, still a tad shy as she breathes it against his neck.

She doesn't know how to explain that it's not Kavik or her feelings for him that make her this way; doesn't know how to tell him that she'll always be haunted by what's happened. No one ever truly comes back, not after losing so much of yourself, and part of her will always be tormented. 

Some territorial part of her is immensely pleased that their smells are mingled together on their skin. She hums softly, breathing him in. Her possessive heart tells her that Kavik is hers; she'll likely spend the rest of her days making sure he's perfumed in her smell.