Thunder Dome Thymós

sorry not sorry...

Lavender sprigs were held delicately in the coltish girls mouth—her steps were quick, surely, but there was always something to see that the journey had taken her longer than she had promised. Surely her mother would understand though—but when she felt the shift of wind and the drop in temperature, she knew enough time had passed to stir worry, and so she would became more direct with her steps…

… Until from the corner of her gaze she caught sight of a masked wolf—navy eyes peering to the distance and a gait that held purpose. She hummed softly—considering—and then shook the urge to stop and chat.

He didn’t seem overly approachable, and so with a flick of a darker ebony ear, she widened her berth around him, honeyed eyes casting stray looks toward him as she continued toward Raventhorpe.