Dahozhoni Meadow does my breath smell?

"It just seemed like it," she said with a noncommittal shrug. She was not sure why, it was just a feeling... and apparently an unfounded one.
"I guess I forgot about the age thing when... you know," Odessia said, waving a paw to indicate the better part of the past week.
She had to (again) clamp her mouth shut so she did not interrupt him. If he was so willing to share with her, and sit through her story, it only felt fair to remain silent during his story. Her attention waned, but she remained transfixed on her mate and his voice. The story of his mother was distressing. She could not imagine what that would have been like, and she pressed herself closer against him as he described his mother's entirely unnatural, absent nature. It was as she had thought: the death of a parent had broken his natural social growth.
He described a pack he had joined, crumbling soon after he arrived. He then said something about loving Etienne, which she took to mean as a brotherly love. Nowhere in her view of the world did she possess the notion of homosexuality. It was a concept completely foreign to her, just like so many things in this region of the world.
Cambria's mother, and then his pack, had left him. None of it seemed any fault of his own, not really. She was all too familiar with trauma now, and hearing about his had her wanting to comfort him further. Maybe these past five days had been a welcome distraction for him, just as that little yellow flower had been for her.
She came to a realization.
"I do not care about the pack I joined," she said, "I only want to be with you."
Odessia knew she would follow him to the ends of the earth. It could be just the two of them against the world, traveling wherever and whenever they wanted. They would never have to pledge themselves to anybody but each other, and they would never need anybody to command. They could just be them.