Fox's Glade to me, from the timbers,

flirting between recruitment and freedom, dolce had stuck close to bearclaw borders. with a heavy mind, no less, since his uneasy meeting with @Tvar, and the knowledge that @Rala was here. apart of the pack, having found what she'd wanted. but not him—her promise, of her whisking him away when she'd found herself a home, was a knife in his chest. 

he didn't know why he cared so strongly. it angered him, at how weak he'd been to nearly get swept up by jealousy and sink his teeth into the flesh of a potential package. a man he'd have to work with, not against. if she'd already made her up her mind, then...

a scent is carried by the wind, and along with it, a voice that makes his chest ache. his torn ears perk, and he grows still. listening, watching, yearning. 

his paws move without reason, as if on instinct, to bring him closer. heart skips a few heavy beats, and suddenly, he doesn't care about Tvar and how close they must've gotten. all he cares about, is finding her again. seeing her again, in all her radiance and insatiable sweetness. 

there she is, frame by the snow she was born from, somehow more beautiful than when he saw her last. the brute of a man almost smiles, before he rumbles a deep chuff. expecting her to turn and grace him with a smile that could soothe any ache. 

"remember me, dove?"