Moonspear [m] doppelgangland

He was met with a smile—a welcoming sight, and something cloying about her current posture. Clearly, she sought conversation more intimately—perhaps without the prying ears of others—and vaguely, he wondered if she suspected his artsiness. His inability to focus as one should, when the shadows of their neighboring mountain beckoned him.

His icy eyes took in the pelt—the gesture to which she welcomed him—and quietly he acquiesced. His form larger—still, streamlined, his attempt was to offer her enough space for security, but it did not stop him from feeling the warmth that emanated from her, and the gentle brush of her fur to his—impossible, in this space. “So this is an ulaq,” he offered, his voice a low murmur as his eyes drifted from her to look around. “I’ve never slept anywhere but under the stars since I was a whelp,” he admitted to her, increasingly intrigued by this culture of hers.