Bearclaw Valley gardenia and king protea

The movement was accepted far easier this time than it had been in the meadow several days prior. It was gentle, soft, comforting. And yet it also felt like electricity coursing through the point of contact, heat traveling up his arm and into his chest. Evien hadn't realized he could feel so smitten - like a boy with a girl, his father had said, a long time ago. But did it have to be a girl?

"I don't think that about you," he murmured, trying to pick his words more carefully. "You don't seem like a killer, to me." He took a breath, thinking. "I don't know what he meant about marching, but I doubt it meant anything good. I'll probably have a lot of wolves to fix."

Fields was made of sunlight - it glanced off of his fur beautifully. He was so bright, so much brighter than Evien had ever imagined possible. Merrick had called Evie beautiful, but if anyone deserved the title, it was Fields. The brown boy smiled in return and laid his head down on his paws, letting his eyes drift shut. "Thanks. He said I-" wanted to watch someone choke on their own vomit. The imagery behind it was disgusting and made Evien's stomach turn, and he shook his head to clear it. "It was just weirder than I expected. Merrick is strange." It was certainly not that he didn't like the black coywolf. He just didn't know how to feel yet. "I'll need to get to know him better." Get to know them all better.