Fairspell Meadow bleak midwinter

sullivan does not notice the presence of the other; not at first.

wrapped in the nostalgia of almost a little too long. plagued by thoughts of his mother and father and siblings, went unseen since he was a child.

something draws his bi-colored gaze in her direction. a shift in the wind, a bird call even. something that has forced his gaze to errantly shift and her shadowed form comes into view.

ears cup forth, at attention, atop his skull and he turns his head to face her, a low chuff slipping betwixt his lips.