Sunspire Mountains the hills have feelings, too

Dusty Rose craned his head to look at her leg along with her. Yikes, he thought, but there was little outward reaction. Until he realized she meant now, she could show him right now, and wasn't that the best thing he could possibly imagine? In the moment, anyway. And the moment was what was important.

He stood with her, since he couldn't very well sit with this level of excitement gathering in his paws. They burned as if they, too, wanted to dance. Or perhaps as if they had been frozen solid and were only now beginning to thaw.

Semantics.

The wolf danced, and Dusty Rose had never seen fire before, but if he had, he could've likened one to another. He watched with his eyes wide and his ears fanned back in reverence, completely absorbed by the complex display before him. If this was how she danced with an injured leg, he wished dearly he could see her before.

"It's beautiful," he said after some time had passed, taking a few lyrical half-steps as if he might try it out himself. But he contained his enthusiasm and merely came to bump his head against her shoulder. "You oughta teach me sometime! If that's allowed. I love to dance."

He didn't know any, though. All the dancing he'd done had been with his heart, and he couldn't remember the moves.