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She could feel her heart thumping hard, her whole body quivering in rhythm with its rapid beat. More and more parts of her body began feeling too tight, including her throat—where the word “affection” remained stuck—and her chest. Her stomach was the exception. It felt like it was free-floating inside her, flipping and rolling. It was a wonder Druid didn’t get sick again.

Redd didn’t say anything, which wasn’t particularly surprising. Druid’s nerves continued jangling as she locked eyes with her and shifted closer. Druid did the same without thinking, pulled perhaps by that inner magnet that tugged them into perfect sync. Her ears pricked at the rumbling sound coming from the Wealda’s mouth, her gaze attentive on her face until her chin tipped into the air.

Ritual displays weren’t commonplace for Druid, though it felt natural to avert her eyes. Though they dropped, her own snout tipped upward to touch her nose to Redd’s chin. She didn’t quite understand what she was doing or why, though she was happy to defer to the Wealda, if that’s what Redd wanted from her.

She hadn’t run away from Druid’s confession. She’d moved closer. This gave the gray woman the courage to poke out her tongue, leaving a little peck on Redd’s chin. Her snout then skimmed a few inches sideways to leave another on her jaw, lingering where Redd could surely feel the shaky breaths puffing from her mouth.