Dahozhoni Meadow he was living on borrowed time

the way that wolves outside of her immediate circle relied on the gift of gab was an annoyance to towhee, who couldn't hear. the silence of her world was not shared among her ilk and though it sometimes causes a burn of jealousy in her chest, it is soothed by the simple fact of not being able to miss something she never had.

she watches, with satisfaction, as he flattens himself to the sand beneath them, and notes the friendly wag of his tail.

though she wishes only to scoff, instinctively, the actions he took soothe the very worst of her hostility.

his lips move, but never having bothered to learn how to lipread — because she'd never needed to, because until recent interactions it hadn't seemed like a necessity — she simply stares at him. blankly.

the movement of his lips mean as much to her as the signing of ptero surely means to him.

the meeting of her eyes sparks something domineering within her and her lips curl back once, in warning; a raspy snarl rumbling in her throat.

she does not bother with ptero again, but feels some of the tension leave her shoulders, her chin lifting, the tilt of her head meant to ask: what do you want?