Moonsong Glacier If we run into red full speed

She pursed her lips and exhaled, the corners of her eyes wreathed with smile lines at his coy response. A little warning at the back of her mind reminded her that he had avoided assuring her that she was gentle, in order to make a joke. She was good-humoured herself, and dismissed the doubt. She preferred to think he was simply in search of laughter, and he would be rewarded with a soft, near-breathless laugh. 

He came closer and she reached out with her muzzle, lengthening her posture, pushing her whiskers forward so that she might take in not only his scent, but those he bore with him as well, tangled in his fur. She kept a slight distance between them, a sliver of space so that the light could deke through. He won a brazen flick of her gaze when he spoke again; she doubted he would need to rely on anyone else to make him brave. Her brow lifted when she was given a nickame that she felt was dainty, but palatable. She moved along at his side willingly, still allowing the wind to split between them. 

"Yes, I would like to see," She said, over the soft crunch of footsteps on snow. "Will there be seals?" She asked, her gaze brightening. Her grandmother and mother had told tales of such creatures, but she had always struggled to imagine what they might actually look like. "My family told stories of seals," She admitted, as if to explain why she might look so suddenly interested.