Redhawk Caldera The View from Halfway Down

She looked worried for a moment, and he thought for sure that this was too much. Perhaps she didn't want labels...Perhaps he'd not been reading her well, but every time she looked at him...He could have sworn she wasn't just looking, but then again, he could've been completely wrong. 

She swallowed, and he could see her whiskers shiver slightly. New springs of water ran with the rivers of her eyes, threatening to spill over her cheeks, but she looked away from him. He turned his ear back, apologetically, and lowered his head. He wanted to take some of the pressure off of her, and her laugh, albeit brittle, gave him a bit of hope. 

Perhaps it was the novelty of being asked that had surprised her. Perhaps she hadn't expected him to want to know her more, before simply giving in to primitive instincts. From what he recalled, she'd been looking at him that way. If he hadn't spoken to her, their bodies would have sung in the shallow waters where they stood.

Nevertheless, she agreed. He moved forward, and growled softly, pausing when they could truly see eye to eye, nosetip to nosetip, before he brushed his muzzle alongside hers and exhaled his relief into the fur behind her ear. He laughed tenderly. "Good." He murmured, voice muffled by the soft, damp fur.