Bearclaw Valley bluegrass

the soft gurgle of the river flowing beneath a thin sheet of ice soothed her. it was bleak now with winter still in its wake, but her vivid imagination led her to picture it teeming with life. lush grass lining the banks, salmon migrating to their old grounds within the water. the trees whispering with the wind. perhaps a few river fowl she could wake up too in the mornings and watch. 

she stepped closer to the rivers edge, where dirt faded into gravel and water-smoothed pebble. being so close to the water reminded her of home, and it made something in her chest tighten. a comfortable, warm feeling; she wouldn't mourn over her home anymore, not when she was on the cusp of finding her own. 

the river was no white-sanded coastline. but it was theirs, and that was enough.

her willowy tail swishes at her hind as excitement bubbles in her veins. a peace she'd been missing. a comfort. 

she scans the landscape then with keen, gentle eyes. searching until...

there's an old willow tree nestled between old rocks, just a comfortable distance away from the water. far enough where if the river were to flood, there'd be no concern. but close enough to still enjoy the scenery from within a den. she flits over to it, small paws pressing into the cold dirt at the base of it's trunk. 

come spring, it's boughs would sway and seal them off from the world. their own little slice of heaven. "wouldn't this be beautiful?" she was beaming, the excitement written all over her features. "relaxing under the willow tree, listening to the river..." 

she wonders if he's as enthusiastic about this all. she leans into his touch, tilting her muzzle upward to press a kiss beneath his jaw. 

 she murmured a soft plea, "help me dig the den out, my heart?"