Fox's Glade to me, from the timbers,

the tank of a man practically melted against her gentle touch, so light and airy, much akin to the personality that had him reeled in. he'd wear her scent now, and his chest swelled with pride. perhaps a primal feeling it was, but he was only but a man. it'd cling to his fur and he'd hope it'd stay for days to come. 

before she'd whisked away, he'd return the gesture. cautious with his strength, the way it could overbear, his touch was a gentle ghost across her shoulder. his deeper, richer scent would cloak her. another swell of selfish pride, knowing it'd mask tvar's. 

a silent claim. one he'd defend, too, if push came to shove. 

he turned sturdy, scarred limbs, the corners of his lips curled with satisfaction, with mirth. "yes ma'am." he rumbled with a chuckle before he too moved forward, heavy paws crunching in the snow. he'd lead her wherever she'd like, should she just give the order. 

they walked together now, side by side, and dolce couldn't help but think that's how it should be, how it should remain. he'd do anything to keep her at his side. that'd been long decided, only solidified now. "reckon you could keep up, dove?" a tease, a challenge, a wag of his short tail.