Honeyed Pasture king forever, ceasing never

The male seemed amenable to both her company and her nearness, so Moorhen abandoned the last vestiges of her personal space to crowd up into Jarilo's, her nose traversing the dark forest of his nape, the bristle-brush pelage where his neck met his shoulder, the velvet and sedge of his ear. Her dark tail wagged excitedly through all this - Jarilo smelled very good, his dark pine spice being very different from the coastal perfumes she was used to. Even his earwax was different!

Tail still wagging, she took a half-step back and said, "Do you want to story?" in an unsurprisingly shy tone of voice. She was not one for big speeches, and with her poor command of the common tongue, any string of words longer than "Leave me alone" was bound to be choppy and awkward. But she wanted to impress Jarilo, and maybe this would be good talking practice, too.

It was then that she seemed to pick up on his desire to be on his way. Moorhen was reluctant to let the pretty boy out of her sight, so she offered, "We can walk and talk?" So smooth. So eloquent. She was doing great. "And look for venn? Friend?"