Firefly Glen where the wild things are

Despite her approach, Lómion had barely moved. He had yet to break eye contact as well. Vague features were made more decipherable as she crept closer. A small, young thing with a stare so cool. Her pelt could easily get lost in the approaching nightfall, he thought, just as his.

But oh— what was that? A spark nestled between dark furs. She carried scarlette hues. A scarce feature compared to the rest of her, but enough to do away with his initial thought. It was eyecatching, and it surely had his gaze ensnared.

Finally Lómion shifted, swaying on the weight of his paws. He felt an obligation that wasn't there before, to speak. 

Hello.