Wapun Meadow in the way you're walking,

tvar watches her closely as she buries her muzzle into the thick fur of his neck, a gesture that feels both natural and intimate. her warmth against him stirs something deeper, a quiet longing he hasn’t allowed himself to acknowledge fully. when she pulls back, her gaze catches his, and he notices how her eyes hold the color of the dawn—soft, yet piercing in their intensity. he’s careful not to linger too long, lest she see the way her presence has begun to affect him.

he dips his head slightly, his tail giving a faint flick behind him as he considers the practicality of her choice. “aye,” he murmurs, his voice low, but firm. “deer’ll do well. the pack could use the meat, and the snow’ll slow them enough for a clean chase.”

as she moves closer, her tail brushes across his chest, the contact subtle but deliberate. his muscles tense briefly beneath his dark coat, but he doesn’t shy away. instead, he meets her gaze again, his expression calm but searching, as if trying to read the intent behind her movements.

“we’ll have to track carefully,” he adds after a moment, his focus shifting to the task at hand, though his attention never strays far from her. “wind’s working in our favor for now, but they’ll scent us soon enough if we’re not quick.” his gaze lingers, though he remains careful not to let it show too plainly. watching the way her coat catches the faint light, the way her steps fall in perfect rhythm with the world around her. he’s careful not to linger too long, careful to keep his own thoughts in check. yet, despite himself, he can’t help but wonder: if there’s a place for her in the life he’s tried so hard to keep distant, if there’s a place for him in whatever future she’s envisioning.

“lead the way, lāosyssy.” snowbird. high time he gave her a name of her own, in his mother tongue. his voice is softer now, if such a thing were possible, and yet still thick as if gravel sat in his throat.

it’s her hunt. he is content to follow.