Bramblepoint diortosire

The word old struck a chord she did not care to hear. Hemera knew time was creeping upon her, relentless in its pursuit, but she chose to live as if it weren’t. As if the world would always be bathed in golden light and her days would stretch on, endless. Soon, silver would weave itself through the edges of her silk-soft coat, though fortune favored her; pale fur would hide the years well.
She shifted her weight, casting another glance at the wound before scanning their surroundings. Lowering her muzzle slightly, she took in the air, thoughtful.
„Yes, I believe I saw one.” With a fluid motion, Hemera turned from Towhee, a silent invitation in the flick of her tail. It had been her presence, after all, that added to the fright; she would see to it that the damage was lessened.
„Come.” A nod, a gentle command, and then she moved, weaving through the canopy with effortless grace. The murmur of water guided her steps, the quiet rush of a stream threading its way through the woodland. As they neared, Hemera stepped ahead, catching a low-hanging branch before it could snatch at Towhee’s already wounded form.
„Here.” A single word, offered as she turned, warm gaze steady. „Is your home nearby?” Hemera continued, keeping her carrot gaze.