The Sentinels Flower, gleam and glow

He knows he should ask about her family, in turn, especially after her wistful comment. But he does not interrupt. Instead, Bushtit tips his head to the left and reaches up a hind leg to dig at another itch, this one deep in his ear. He stifles a grunt as he works at it, making sure to keep his eyes pinned on Solenya’s face so she knows he’s paying attention.

Thanks. Yeah, he says lightly, chortling through the brief contact and its accompanying flattery, but I can’t imagine settling down anywhere, at least not anytime soon. I was raised on the road, it’s the only lifestyle I know. The only one I want, Bushtit explains, setting down his foot and straightening. It’s not that I don’t like you or this place, though. You both seem great.

His cheek tingles where she touched it. Bushtit bites at his lip, studying her for a moment. He wonders what Solenya would say if he asked her if she was DTF? But he holds his tongue. She’s lovely, though he’s not particularly attracted to her. Besides, he needs to hit the road, make his way to his mom’s place.

But before he goes, he politely and gently queries, Aside from the cool trees, what brought you here? Like, what’s your story?

“What I would give to visit my family, again,” she’d said. He senses a tragedy of some kind. Bushtit hopes he hasn’t overstepped, though he’ll understand if Solenya chooses to keep this information tucked somewhere safe, like the objects she’s put in the ground.