Larksong Grotto white fog

there was something in the way she looked at him, something open, searching. it had him captivated toward her, towards the snowgirl.
sort of, he admitted, voice low.
his solitude was a choice, but not always his own. he had walked away from things, from people. others had done the same to him. but that wasn’t a conversation for now. not when she was here, standing before him, warmth flickering in her gaze despite the rain.
not now, he said instead, and this time, he let his eyes linger on her. a pink stripe of his tongue lathered his lips for a moment; she had not been apart of her pack for a while. it was good. this was good.