Honeyed Pasture Primrose

Reverie only watched for a time when she caught sight of the tawny-furred wolf, taking comfort in the way he seemed so... casual, unburdened. It was oddly cathartic to get a glimpse of normalcy, to really let herself feel that stab of jealousy and longing. Eventually she started to feel a little strange about it, though.
So she chuffed and shifted lazily in the grass to indicate her position. Reverie didn't bother to get up, though. The weight of her own burdens kept her in place, and for once she did not even think of how rude she was being. Did it matter? She would never see him again anyway, she thought. The only one who stayed was Lestan, and he...
She pushed that thought away and tried to look friendly, tail swishing through the grass half-heartedly.