Whitebark Stream look, this comes as no surprise.

lifting her muzzle to the fraying winter air, sobeille’s gaze fell on a fast approaching silhouette.

at first, she thought of the mild-mannered lotus; this one carried a similar schematic to her pelt. as she drew close, sobeille noted the distinctive features that put this sylph in a class all her own.

she studied the rose-gold of the yearling’s gaze; this was a new color for sobeille, and once again she was intrigued by the thousand colors — and emotions — eyes seemed capable of conveying.

glancing back to the trailing footsteps in the snow, sobeille waved her tail neutrally. in a way. seeing the youth in yura’s unblemished features pained sobeille, for it made her think of her young siblings. dey ‘ave deir season upon dem. dey will go an’ find a man, and make babies. and den the scent becomes somet’ing else.