Bearclaw Valley [m] burning skies

towhee watches him make the ptero gesture for 'no' — by far the easiest and likely her very first word — with a soft edge of pride warming her gaze. good, she seeks to communicate with the small tilt of her head.

her own tail beats the ground lazily, content; studying the subtle shift in him. a tension towhee notes in the moments before tvar presses closer.

a soft noise in her throat welcomes his touch, even as she pretends to ponder his question.

-round two?- she asks in ptero, seeking to nip at his cheek with want, hoping her question — her invitation — was clear.