Sleepy Fox Hollow this love it is a burning sun

Elowen had been lost in the reflection of the stream, the way the water caught the light of the breaking dawn, the gentle ripples distorting her image. She felt a kind of quiet solace there, in her own company, watching the light dance over the surface, broken only by the soft movement of her own tail.

But that peace didn’t last long—when did it ever? A shift in the air—a disturbance, subtle at first—drew her from her reverie. Her ears flicked forward, catching the movement in the brush before the scent of another reached her.  It didn’t take long for the approach to become audible, the soft pad of paws on the earth, the rustling of branches, the unmistakable presence of something curious.

Her posture stiffened, head turning just slightly to catch the other’s form coming into view. The stranger circled her with unsettling confidence—no hurry, no intent to strike, just observation. It made Elowen uneasy in a way she couldn’t quite explain. The voice came next, light and almost teasing.

Elowen’s ears flattened, tail still against the ground. Her gaze shifted, eyes narrowing slightly. Loneliness wasn’t something she felt all the time—no, she was used to being alone, to watching quietly from the edges of things. 

The dove rose slowly, her movements cautious but fluid, like she was measuring the distance between them. "I’m not lonely," she murmured, her voice soft but firm, the quiet of the morning still clinging to her words.