Wapun Meadow when i was a younger man, looking for a pot of gold

At Indra’s try at positivity, Aure offered a wan, quivery curl of her own attempt at a smile; and as Indra contemplated what to say next, the silver thought she’d take this moment to feast a bit on her neglected hare. ”You know what someone once told me?” — argent eyes found the auburn’s, wondering and distracted. ”Love the cock—“ 

That was as far as she listened.

With a stuttering half-squeak, half-snort, the bit of bone she’d been ruminating over leapt down her throat. For the second time that day, she nearly died by rabbit. But she leapt to her paws, coiled in on herself, and heaved and heaved and heaved; yachking and sending spittle flying; drool ribboned down her chin, tears down her cheeks. All the while, she wheezed with a terrible definition of what might have been laughter.

And so, once the lodged bone was finally gagged up, the laughter came in full; and Aurëwen spent most of the tirade wilting right onto her back and properly laughing her ass off.

She wanted to say that ”You should tell that to my brother!” but what she gasped out instead was: ”Youshoudlvetodlmybrotheu-rh!” that pinched off into a girlish, unladylike squeal. Goddamn— she smacked her forepaws over her scarred muzzle in mortification and unfettered glee to silence herself— but even then, tearful giggles still came.

It was about time she went mad.