Lost Creek Hollow I Am the Once, Now Irreplaceable Son

He had stepped forward, and she—
 
Remained where she stood. No move to step forward. No move to step back.
 
What resulted was an awkward, uncomfortable, unnatural closeness between them, one where Daighre refused to be the one to widen the gap. Instead, he stood there, awkwardly, and distinctly uncomfortable, his tail deadweight in the air behind him and his shoulders rolled forward, his head and neck in line with his spine. His hackles bristled.
 
‘I’m Dantalion,’ she said, like he gave a flying fuck. Dandelion. Great. Fucking great. Her name was Dandelion. She should have told someone who gave a shit.
 
He sneered, then, looked down at her from the bridge of his muzzle, the corner of his black upper lip curled back and his teeth on display. And finally, finally—
 
“Daighre.” His name was Daighre.