Dawnlark Plains It isn't what it seems

she turns to face him and closes the distance that had previously existed between them, a few steps between them. his black, leathery nostrils flare as he drinks in her scent, swallowing thickly as that decadent scent that lingers like the sweetest and most forbidden perfume teases him. it's stronger now that she's so much closer and the tone which she says his name, smooth and different and just as fucking intoxicating as the scent that he swears is radiating from every single tendril of her fur.

his head feels buzzed and he takes a breath — which didn't help as much as he thought it should've — and focuses on her words, clinging to them to distract himself with. it works but temporarily; long enough for him to process her question and following statement and to formulate his response. busy, he replies vaguely. it was the truth. he has been busy ...still he realizes he could stand to be a bit more open. i left blackfeather. been trying to form my own pack —

i saw that blacktail deer plateau disbanded, he remarks in a way of trying to strike up a conversation, unaware that he might be lacking tact in bringing up the disbandment of her pack. ah, sorry if that's a sensitive subject. nice going, asshole.