Otter Creek A machete that cuts my cheek

His black and cream head rose, resting when he was at his full height. Yuda was not large (even if he was still four months shy of being an adult), but he preferred the option of being of smaller stature to easily run, jump, or crawl among the shadows if necessary. A light step was more desired than anything else.

But with the movement to regard the female, he was giving her the privilege of her existence being accepted in any form. Empty eyes stared into her face, neither caring nor feeling anything as she approached; Yuda knew the dark woman was an nonthreatening figure that stood with a musk of curiosity before him.

With the question floating his direction, the male stood for a long moment. Eyes still clinging to her face, his head lowered an inch, with merely his wet muzzle pointing toward the ground beneath him. It wasn't a nod, nor was it not one, but the young male gave no semblance of caring what the female would interpret his actions as.