Firefly Glen (M) No room for a saint.

out of sight for now, but more than happy to hop in!

Hotah padded into the fringe of the glen, the marmot hanging limp between his teeth. He hadn’t been trailing Towhee on purpose, but her scent had drifted across his path, sharp and familiar even as it dulled with time. It tugged him forward until the trees opened to the clearing.
He stopped short at the edge. Towhee was there, but she wasn’t alone. Another male had already stepped up, and the easy way she greeted him said this wasn’t some stranger. Hotah shifted his weight, almond eyes taking in the scene before flicking off to the glen itself. It was beautiful here— quiet, full of light— but it didn’t settle the unease curling in his chest.
He stayed where the shadows cut across the grass, marmot still clamped in his jaws, unsure if his presence would be welcome or if he’d just stumbled into something best left alone.