Dahozhoni Meadow he was living on borrowed time

She watched him eagle-eyed as he eats. Butterfly didn’t blame her for being suspicious; after all, they’d only known each other for a matter of minutes. The boy shuffled his paws anxiously as he waited, some part of him desperate for her approval and the other part hoping that she’d finally come to her senses and listen to him.

It seemed he’d finally got through to her. As she takes the fruit in her jaws, he sighed and released a breath he didn’t know he was holding until he spots the grateful tilt of her head. At least this he could understand. Tail beating, he gestures with a point of his muzzle from the rest of the fruit to the girl as if to say the rest is yours.

Out in the desert, sugars like this would keep you going for far longer than a few gulps of water. 

Protectiveness swells in his chest for the girl, eager to glean at least some sort of understanding before they inevitably parted ways. When he next caught her gaze upon him, he pawed at his muzzle, an unvoiced question raised in the tilt of his head. If she couldn’t understand his language, could she speak some of her own?