Hushed Willows something to confide in, something to erase

Just a note about Dusty's figure — he is lanky but still with muscle and fat deposits and a metic shit ton of floof!

It took a moment of fussing for Dusty Rose to loaf himself into the stranger's breadbox, paws tucked firmly into his fluffy undercoat. The snow still fell on him, but the sensation was outcompeted by the heat and pressure of the body pressed against him. This, of course, was how snow could best be enjoyed.

"I'm not," the coywolf protested when he was rudely accused. "I'm here right when I mean to be. In the winter. Spring will come when it comes."

What a weirdo.

The coywolf craned his head to squint up at the snow. A flake caught rudely on his lashes, and he blinked it away. He guessed it was pretty enough to look at, and that maybe this could be peaceful for someone who wasn't him — but the activity still concerned him.

"Whatcha thinkin' about?" he asked, shuffling again so that he could look down at the wolf without seeming to loom. This did not take him any further from his new buddy — in fact, he was eyeing his chest, which looked like an exceptionally comfortable pillow.