Bitterroot Valley Enter, Pursued by a Memory

twitch had no business being awake at this hour. it is a fact she knows and acknowledges, and yet sleep has evaded her at every opportunity. so she wandered. quiet. small. doing her best impression of a shadow that wouldn’t bother anyone so that no one would bother her—at the very least, it is a skill she has practiced, therefore, surely!, none would come to her.

she caught their scent before she sees them: new blood, smelling of smoke and earth. she hesitated at the treeline, paws sinking into soft moss, debating the smartest course of action (turn around and pretend she saw nothing was winning by a landslide).

the choice is almost made by the time she realizes he is looking her way, and tragically, she has been staring a bit long for it to be considered normal.

with apprehension already settling in, she steps out anyway, ears tucked half-back, looking anywhere but at him. it lasts for all of fourteen seconds because she simply cannot help herself.

her eyes snag on his height, the bulk of him, the weight of his stride. handsome crossed her mind and she kicked it straight back out before it could settle anywhere noticeable.

he dips his head when she’s close enough with a polite “mornin’,”—she blinks once, as if surprised he’d bothered with courtesy at all. she softens her posture to something presentable in response, “hello,”

she’s a bit awkward sorry I just wanted to meet this guy i_i it gets better I promise