Bramblepoint Oozings and visible membranes are rude and thoughtless

Even though Dragomir was intentionally out here looking for Isilmë or signs that his mother continued to skulk in Moonspear's shadow, the last thing he was expecting was company. Marilla's voice cut through Bramblepoint like the crack of a whip, louder than the snap of any twig, and it was so unanticipated that Dragomir's heart jumped into his throat and he froze on the spot. His ears twitched. His tail lashed once. It was unfortunate, for "the spot" happened to be him with a mouthful of twigs, halfway through another chomp.

The casual manner that he extracted himself from the bush was a little too nonchalant to be convincing, and his pricked hackles weren't doing him any favours when it came to pretending he wasn't startled. He turned slowly, much too slowly, and tried his best to look like the sight of Marilla wasn't a complete surprise. For half a second, hope blossomed in his chest because he thought she was Isilmë, made thin by the famine, but ... ah, no, not enough silver. Marilla was plain white.

Besides, her muzzle was just way too long to be his sister's. It was verging on kind of unnatural, actually, not that Dragomir would ever say that out loud. What he did say was an incredibly smooth and not at all awkward, maybe I like twirling around and making things hard.

NANOWRIMO: 229