Dawnlark Plains tender like a dove

blood on the snow. something which once frightened him so deeply now intrigues him. she does not cut the rabbit violently. there is a precision to it, an art, and when she laughs, breathy, he feels his heart skip a pace or two.

her attempt at his name, likewise, is met with a warm smile. no irritation behind it, only pleasant humor. he shakes his head, taps his mouth with a paw. watch my lips.

"kae-lith." he speaks slowly, clearly. then, he tries her name again, unsteady but stumbling less.

"silatuyok." and it is warm, like an old hymn, because to share a name is to share a piece of himself. he is curious, equally cautious and eager to know her.