Meadowlark Prairie to savour your accent

"there is an awful lot of solo navigation," merrick lamented as the trees beyond blackfeather beckoned. his stomach churned; it would be easy, then, to grab her now, but they could be wrested apart by whoever could hear them. nostrils flared; water nearby. "could use a drink," he suggested, turning them in the direction of the little creek.
the area would be dotted with willow and birch, branches hopefully interlaced. "have you got family other places in the wild, besides undersea?" merrick inquired conversationally, the very brush of moss beneath his paws enlivening him with a barely controlled dart of lust.
wait and wait and wait and wait; heartbeat tripping upon its own wires;  the serpent curls, biding its time.