Whitebark Stream So take this feeling, make it grow.

she can't quite help it; at the image of the diminutive woman vomiting on her mate's feet, she snorts. she tries to stiffle it, but she can't help but picture it again, and a laugh slips out once more before she can smoother it. "I'm sorry—that's disgusting. but she-" she laughs again, poking her muzzle to his in apology. 

the conversation shifts more fully to their trip, and she smiles. "there's a herd of deer that could use some thinning out. after that, we can go." standing, then, unable to banish the tiredness entirely, she suggests, "for now -- nap with me?" she is in no hurry to distance herself from the closeness they'd shared, and as she dips to carefully pick up the sprigs, her tail wafts hopefully at her rear.