Otter Creek songbird

maeve’s ear twitched toward the sound before the rest of her stirred. It wasn’t the water or the breeze that called her this time, but something foreign, something… alive. fern-green eyes flickered open lazily, narrowing to slits as they sought the source of the voice. 

across the creek stood a stranger, all wiry energy and curious eyes, his voice faintly accented but clear enough to catch. She tilted her head, the sunlight catching on the soft contours of her fur as she regarded him with quiet intrigue. A child, by the looks of it—still undergoing the last stretch before becoming a yearling.

“Hola,” she echoed, her voice unhurried, as if savoring the word. with a slow stretch that rippled through her lean frame, maeve rose to her paws. she was hardly threatening—only deliberate. "You lost, kid?"