Swiftcurrent Creek Stare al Proprio Posto

And so she would follow him to his den. A soft nod, a smile sent her way, before he turned, moving so that he could follow along the creek, trotting upstream. His tail swayed as he went, a confidence within his step. What's your den like? Back at the valley. Idle, yet curious chatter. A side-glance casted upon her every now and then.

Eventually, they arrived. Grasses were lush from the rivers lifeblood, its water, but here, the shrubbery was full. A dip beneath a mossy, fallen log provided his bed, softened with ferns and grasses. He looked to Milan, then, as they drew closer, hoping for her approval. Just under the log. he advised, pointing his muzzle forwards. He would wait for her to enter first, and try to wager how she felt by the way she laid.

A hopeful gaze. Would she let him—invite him to?—get close to her?