Fairspell Meadow Weeds can be pretty too!

A forepaw retreated when she moved, then slowly fell back to the ground when no ill intent was shown. 

He still eyed her warily, but it was more curiosity than worry now. She was silent. The wolves he knew had not been. The words she did speak were none the fox could make sense of. 

He watched her eat. One of the squishy flowers, something he’d learned not to bother with. He knew of the edible kind, but lacked trust in himself to procure them. A nervous gaze flitted to the gift she presented, then right back to her. He dipped toward it, eyes staring up until he made contact. 

He snatched it up quickly in his slender muzzle, then retreated, left staring at her with the cap of the fungus hanging from the side. 

Not a bad taste. Weird. He was unsure.

He placed it down before pinning it, then nibbled away at the cap. 

Hard to swallow. Much spongier than meat. His sharp teeth weren’t meant for something like this. 

He did finally manage to swallow, and a pink tongue briefly cleaned his snout. 

“Not sick?”

A question probably best asked before eating.