Deepwood Weald [m] lxix. love, hunt me down

The doe smiled tremulously in silent appreciation. She dipped her fallow crown in affirmation to answer his question before adding, "You might come and stay in the village for a time when they are born. Our people allow family to enter the whelping dens. Your presence would be a welcome one in my home." She left it at that for now, not taking the time to go in depth about the customs Moonglow held -- how her family had helped to raise her first litter or how they believed in protecting the newborn spirits of recently birthed children by congregating around their arrival into this world. 

The pair embraced and Lótë learned again what it was to dance steps long forgotten. 

- fade -

Afterwards, the dove retreated from his personal space -- feeling a similar awkwardness. For a moment, the three-year was at a loss of what to say or what happened next. It felt strange, the idea of sharing intimacy with the ostmen, in spite of what they had just done. Kjalarr did not exactly seem like the type for curling up against and that was not what they shared. Still, there was a spark of amicable kinship between them -- perhaps the start of a friendship. Lótë did not wish to send him away. 

"You might stay if you like? I have some meat if you're hungry. But you need not linger if it is not something you want." She smiled easily, hoping to put him at ease with such a decision. Perhaps he had important business to return to. If such was the case, the scarred warrior would find no hard feelings harbored in her heart.