Jade Fern Grove just a young gun with a quick fuse

for a long time she clung to the remnants of her pride, thinking on crowfeather's face and wondering when she had become so attached. she still did not need him to love her; she wished to be beside him. she wanted a hundred things! and she could sort none of them. at last she let out her breath and settled into the crook of his arm, this man she had once enjoyed in joy and lovely wintertime. "internal affairs," she joked weakly, running her paw across the hare's textured fur. "i am finding myself fickle. i cannot wait for this week to end."