Fox's Glade [m] glued back together again

The girl, too, remained quiet, and he wondered what she thought. He realized she had said nothing since they had met, nothing throughout their entire entanglement, nothing in the quiet aftermath. If she thought anything, she held her thoughts to herself.

Yet though she was absent of words, she spoke in other ways, through gentle touches, which she offered even now. She had not run from him, nor had he run from her, and perhaps a part of him had been aware of what he was doing when they had come together. Of what they were perhaps starting together.

He looked to her. A dove, she seemed, her only mark a bleeding heart.

"What is your name?" he finally asked. His voice felt out of place, as though breaking something sacred by speaking into the silence.