Snowforest Taiga you dangle on the leash of your own longing

There was a moment where, for whatever ridiculous reason his brain conjured, Ephraim thought that Currituck was going to charge him. He watched her form jolt and then careen sideways, and his first instinct was to flinch and ready himself for impact. His brain went quickly through all the facts he could gather in an instant: they were about the same size but he had his training. Wouldn't hurt that much. Hell, he might even be able to keep his feet. His shift was fluid from hours of practice as he pulled one leg back, brandishing his other shoulder to absorb the brunt of Currituck's hit while his snout ducked to guard his neck...

Except she never hit him. She never really even moved. She righted herself and that was all. Poor Ephraim in all his tense excitement and nervousness had overestimated her movement, sensing it as hostile when really, she was just surprised. And there he was, standing there ready to defend himself, looking like a total moron, while she did nothing more than peer at him across the distance. Stupid, he chided himself, flattening his ears when Currituck's lips pulled into a grin.

He was slow to straighten as she bounced toward him, but there was nothing in her body language to suggest she was tricking him in any way, and his tail picked up its slow wag again. His throat felt dry—why was he always like this around new people? He had no trouble with his comrades, but throw a stranger in front of him, and it was like the air refused to stay in his lungs. He had been so nervous about the other Goufas when he joined Drageda too, and it seemed he hadn't really grown out of that. Formality sometimes helped, he found... but there was no cause for it here.

By the time he mustered up the nerve to breathe a bashful, "hi," Currituck had already closed the distance while his own four feet remained firmly stuck to the ground.