Bitterroot Valley drag me under

her ears pricked at that —only a little—and a low snort slipped out of her before she could stop it. there was relief in the sound, threaded through with something warmer, something dangerously close to fondness.

"yeah, go figure," she muttered. in the pause that comes after, her crown drops so that her nose can break the surface of the lake with a soft plunk, cold water rushing up her muzzle and flooding her senses.

when she comes up again, there are droplets hanging from her whiskers. "i'll try n' find them after a nap, if that works."

lowkey hate this post sorry x_x