Porcupine Ridge Crafted, holy, rolling thunder

Her ears splayed out to the side as a massive paw came gently down on her head. She liked the feeling, each calloused digit and each claw thrust out from them hanging just at the top of her vision. To be buried in others; this sated some need in her, however meager the contribution was.

I will have to learn too. She'd mutter, fidgeting with her paws against the dirt; not so dejected, anymore. It was second nature, seeking touch; but it had to have more control. She needed more control, a feat which has remained a constant source of difficulty. ..I like to cuddle in close, maybe you shouldn't have let me in your den.

In the moment he dipped into thought, she too had one, and rolled onto her back, flipping onto the other side to lazily grab at a pinecone just near enough to not require her to get up. In her roll back over, she'd flick the pinecone at his shoulder. Maybe I will throw pinecones at you. Is that a good warning? Envy grinned, oh so pleased with herself. She'd have to put the forthought into finding a pinecone in the first place, and he'd get to have things thrown at him as a warning for what was to come. Delightful solution. He was soon to have a pinecone-shaped dent in his figure.

Stars and sky. Pretty things. Vast. Perhaps some echo of the freedom he'd been denied. ...You need a hobby. Like me. Something fuuun.. She leered inward, head still slithering through the dirt at his paws.

Passion stoked the flames of her soul; and yet when she looked at him, she did not see the same blaze. His was a small fire, reserved and locked in an air-tight chamber. She wished to blow oxygen onto it, let the fire breathe again. Something would be the catalyst. Something.