Naaghai Lowlands a pretty girl with bouffont hair

She greets him right away, her soft voice stroking his ears into a perk. Bushtit’s face quickly shifts into a smile, his gaze never wavering from her as she approaches. She says something that sounds a lot like a pickup line, though in the present context, he supposes she doesn’t intend it that way.

I’m always thirsty, he replies with a flirtatious twitch of his lips, but yeah, I probably covered—probably not hundreds of miles but, like, tens of them, at least. Bushtit huffs a laugh at how dumb that sounds coming out of his mouth. I’m Bushtit, he offers in the next breath, then waits expectantly for her name.

He gives her an appreciative look in the meantime. She’s not black, like he thought at first, but more of a smoky gray. Her thin fur looks impossibly soft, just like her eyes. She’s petite, standing a few inches shorter than him despite her leggy physique, but she’s a full-grown woman. That’s for sure.