Boartusk Heights Robots need love too

the male waited for her name, passive and silent. niamh. a strange name to him, in a tongue that his own had little business uttering. hungering after fine form, he watched as she flicked her lithe tail and turned -- moving along at a quick trot.

he would have followed her then, were it not for the speed in which she departed. it was quick enough that efforts to conceal footfalls would be futile; he would be heard.

he sighed, a tattered ear flicked in the gesture of a wolfish shrug. and then, set after the trail she had left with a lolling, casual stride.