Firefly Glen and the sky is clear and bright

Gwyn’s melody trailed off as the rustle of leaves stirred in her periphery. She turned her head just in time to see a figure slip from the undergrowth. The newcomer’s eyes gleamed with intrigue as she circled, her tail swaying, offering compliments with a warm candor that took Gwyn by surprise.

"Oh," Gwyn murmured, her cheeks warming beneath her fur. With a soft smile, she lifted her head, meeting the other woman’s eyes as her voice softened. "Thank you. That’s... very kind. You're quite pretty yourself."

She paused, then let out a gentle laugh, delicate as the chime of a brook. “ I—I’m afraid it’s nothing special,” she replied, her own humor shy but evident. "Excessive grooming and bathes. Though lavender is to credit for my scent."

Curious now, the girl tilted her head, studying the stranger with equal interest. The stranger had an earthy grace to her — a light-footed presence that matched the wild beauty of the forest itself. "I’m Gwyn," she offered, her voice warm and genuine. "And you?"