Broken Antler Fen yviss, m'evelien vente cáelm en tel

the sound of approaching footfalls, tell-tale by the shift and crunch of fresh laden snow underfoot draws dandelion's ears back to best determine the origin of the sound but is not enough to break his focus from the cache. ❝mhm,❞ dandelion hums as he roots thru the cache with his snout. a noseful of dirt leaves a tickle in his nose that nearly forces out a sneeze but it dies before it can gain traction and he takes another bite, chewing the frostharden meat with some difficulty before swallowing it down.

it occurs to him that he shouldn't leave his back so exposed but he's too hungry to care. ❝another man's trash is another man's treasure.❞ dandelion says matter-of-factly before realizing that it's probably rude to speak to someone without once even looking in their direction. a step back is taken, a rise of his head and a swipe of his tongue given in an hasty effort to clean his muzzle up a bit. bi-colored gaze slides upon the male only to give a start.

❝o-oh! your eyes are really ...very red,❞ dandelion says. ❝very, very red. pardon me for asking but is that normal?❞ because despite how dandelion wracks his brain he cannot remember ever meeting another with such red eyes before.