Honeyed Pasture ³a tenna nárenna

small post, sry

Invitation, indeed;
accepted with a mututal shift beneath their hides, and yet another glance that might have been meant to be furtive by the coywolf, had they not already lingered so near to another. For seasons she had relearnt what it meant to hold herself up by her own ruff, so to speak; to meet all those who went slack with wonder or apallment or, too, meager and polite curiosity when faced with such a marred guise. And, now, this sunstrike upon her spine for all to see!—

But the silver did not shy away; hunger too gnawed at her innards, and so it was with a low wisp of affirmation that she began to sleuth from scraggly mix at her shoulder. Yes, she had spotted one of the few young, an unassuming whiles from what might be its ailing relative — and so the reforged skulked through all greying frond.

Perhaps, should they crescent towards either flank ... perhaps ... perhaps ...