Mudminnow River too sweet for me

She was such a little thing, fragile in a way that tugged at something deep inside him—something protective, something fierce. Her breath was warm against his fur, her words soft, hesitant.

He let her stay close, didn’t pull away. Instead, he lowered his head slightly, brushing his muzzle against her as if to ground her there, to reassure her. It’d be bad, he said, his voice low, a quiet rumble meant just for her ears. For anyone else who’d found you.

There was a pause, and then his tone shifted, softened further, a warmth threading through the roughness of his words. But no, sweet thing, not for you.

He let the moment linger, let her scent fill the cold air between them. She was searching for something in his gaze, something he wasn’t sure he could name, but he didn’t look away. You’re not foolish, he murmured finally, his voice steady. Not for wantin’ to be found.