Whitefish River serendipity

She didn’t deserve the affection in Seal’s eyes, nor the hug she supposed had been inevitable. Frolic hesitated only briefly before wrapping her swarthy forelegs around her friend’s slim shoulder blades and squeezing her tightly. The scolding actually made her laugh, if a little thickly.

With a trace of alarm, her inner voice reminded her to, Act normal. Frolic supposed some change was normal after her travels, though she knew she couldn’t behave suspiciously—that is, guiltily—lest Seal cotton on to her true nature. She bit at her lip at the thought, slowly pulling out of the embrace.

It was hard to look her friend in the eye, though Frolic made herself do it. And though there was guilt, there was also relief in the fondness she saw on Seal’s face. Of course, her friend didn’t know what she’d done—and she hopefully never would—but, well, the feeling was absolutely, painfully mutual.

Me too, she said, huffing a little laugh before clarifying, I missed you too. What have I missed? Tell me everything.

If she had her way, she would keep the spotlight on Seal. She knew her friend would surely inquire about her travels at some point. And there were stories that were safe to tell. But Frolic didn’t just want to avoid talking about her recent past. She was also truly invested in the goings-on in her dear friend’s life these past six months.