Swiftcurrent Creek i'm in your back pocket, take me out when you get curious

his love of music had not abated, merely been muted by the events of the past several months. mahler found it renewed in the trilling of birds and the gentle trickling of the stream, ambience to replace the rustle of sand and the clash of ocean upon stone. he had kept his distance from her since their last meeting, but helplessly followed her trail today, unnerved by his own curiosity.
a densite — mahler's ears swept forward with a vague understanding of what had occurred before he arrived in swiftcurrent. it was unlike the man to feel jealousy; he did not experience its cold glissade at this moment, but rather an overwehelming fascination. something not quite tender, but tempered with warmth. yet he did not approach; he held himself away some distance away, muscles tightened with anticipation of a white-fanged flush.