Overture Downs can't stand it

she shifted, creeping further into the open with a few steps. sunlight caught the streaks of tawny in her dark pelt as she stared on, assessing. He wasn’t bluffing; that much was clear in the way he held himself, like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders and he carried it with practiced ease. not hostile, but far from inviting.

for a moment, she said nothing, her gaze darting to the slight lift of his muzzle. he was cataloging her—her scent, trying to gauge who she was or what she was capable of, maybe. she held his gaze, her silence deliberate, tense but not aggressive. whatever assessment he’d made of her, she let it hang between them without challenge.

after a moment, she shrugs. “might,” the girl tells him, “would it bother you?” weird question. it probably would, if he was the one to bring it up.