Blackfeather Woods and then one day you find ten years have got behind you

Her stomach felt funny when his tongue touched hers, a sort of flutter deep in the pit. It was nice, and she wanted him to do it again--but how did one go about asking that? She supposed she could go get another seed, but she was high enough as it was, and she didn't want to drag him down into the depths. Reckless as she was with her own health, she had dreamed several times of Mou succumbing to poppy slumber--as she had once almost done--and had woke in a fright, trembling.

Instead, Maegi sank to the leaf-carpeted ground, hoping to entice him down with her. Her eyes were wide and guileless, pupils huge, lips parted slightly. If she squinted, she could see him with two eyes, without the ragged scar along his throat. He must have been handsome, once. . .

. . .and then she felt ashamed for it. She looked away, completely embarrassed. He was handsome now, just as he was; he was her Mou, and every inch was perfect. How dare she think otherwise? Lest he judge her for the ruin of her face, her paw, her. . .her lineage. . .

"I have to tell you something," Maegi whispered, meeting his gaze with a fearful stare of her own.