Emberwood and it hurts my soul

Pygmalion was perfectly fine in the cold, but he understood his mate's discomfort. Aye, let's do, he murmured, rising and beginning to amble along with her toward the den. He stood back a little when they arrived, smiling. After you, he said, bowing his head in cheeky chivalry.

Once she'd entered, he would clamber in after her and curl his body as close as she would allow, a pale crescent around her tiny dark form. They made a good pair in the winter. She needed his warmth, and he someone to warm. This would work out just fine.

fade out here?