Wheeling Gull Isle sacrament

he read each drop of body language.

eyes fluttered, tail tapped. all things he had come to know as contentment. dare he lest assign it to some sense of pleasure. yet he had promised himself he would not soil this holy connection between them. pure and rare. whatever may come from it was not for him to decide.

he was just happy that she seemed at peace with what he had provided.

softly, he took a few steps away, then turned a long look over his narrow shoulder.

did she wish to follow as they once had?