Overture Downs can't stand it

twitch hummed, a low, idle sound as if she were weighing the words in her head. she didn't quite believe him, but this time she made no comment on it.

she glanced at him then, just for a second as he uttered his name. it fit. sharp, clipped. like him—so far, at least. twitch didn’t bother offering hers right away. he hadn’t asked, and she didn't see much point.

but the silence stretched, awkward without any real acknowledgement, and after a beat, she huffed, rolling a shoulder in something half like a shrug.

"twitch." short. simple. fitting. same as his.

she shortens her stride when the land begins to dip and the treeline ends to give way to the sprawling meadow. steps carefully around slick mud before her paws reach grass again.