Bramblepoint The hunger revealing

lorcan is unmoved by the bite in her words, the way she hoards the hare like a sulking child. his ears flick at her question, but he doesn’t rise to the bait. instead, he exhales a low huff, a faint show of exasperation.

i don’t know, he admits, his tone clipped yet not unkind. if she thinks he has all the answers, she’s mistaken. the cold’s got his mind just as muddled as hers—only, he’s learned how to hide it better.

rather than snapping at her, he lowers himself into the snow beside her. the chill seeps through his belly, but he ignores it. his paw settles over hers—over the carcass, really—but gently, not prying it from her grip. then he lifts his muzzle, brushing against her chin if she lets him.

patience, envy, he murmurs, voice softening and breath warm upon her. we’ll find a place. somewhere out of this damn cold.