Phoenix Maplewood if everything is honey, & i am what i eat...

”I... I am weary, but well,” she admitted, and though smeared, the skayona canted her muzzle with a modest gratefulness for the asking. And then her lips pulled back into a mild frown, brows creasing over wide eyes, ”Distressed? I... well, I can’t seem to get this... this sap off of me. S-sorry, whatever it is... Um..”

Her snowy head whirled to one side, as if straining to hear the gurgle of some creek or other. ”I only wanted to wash it off before it dries; if I c-could find a stream, or—“ Was it possible to die from embarrassment? Was it too much to ask that she simply pass away where she stood, petrified as if she were a little girl caught with her grimy hand in the cookie jar?

Never mind the fact that, should this dark wanderer choose to, she could easily be overwhelmed? Aure supposes that she could die here, in fact; drowning in syrup and her own blood, or drowning herself in three inches of water of a creek. The possibilities were endless!

In the end, though, she was able to ease her cinched muscles, at least somewhat; she then stilled, and only her tail was left trembling. Gazing back up into the sable male’s façade, her guillible attention was again drawn to red of him. Rather off-topic, she inquired dazedly, ”Are... are you a war-lord?”