Moonsong Glacier my fingers laced to crown,

its ellie back at it again w the 6am posts
sobs

By the time he winked her way, her mind was still set on the subject of saving his life? Had she? ”Did I...?” she murmured, more to herself than anything. But her gaze whirled to him, like a winter wind, and she felt a bit... helpless in this. ”Did I save your life? I’ve never...” The rest of whatever was said ended up in resigned mumbles, as if she were dragged back into her own thoughts.

Usually, she was so withdrawn and duty-focused around most of the wolves she’d come to know. So, why not with him? She could simply chalk it up to their nerve-wracking experience, or the oddity of how easy it felt to relax alongside him in all this. Or, simply, it has just been a long time since she’d been challenged in such a way—pushed to her limits. And maybe it left her a bit breathless, more lax than usual.

And then, heat suffused her chest and throat and cheeks, and she knew it wasn’t simply because she was modest at saving his life. ”Y-you are welcome. Er, for getting your...life saved. It is a good thing.” Which, of course, she’d never admit to. Ever. Obviously. Did she really deserve his thanks? Really? ”I mean, I’m glad you aren’t dead.”

Oh my god. Scarred face full of mortification, she suddenly picked up the pace into a fleet trot—as if trying to get away from him and her ridiculous words.