Hushed Willows Amid a Crashing World

Oh, she hated that. The way his tone turned all soft and careful, all stuffed with feathers and fur like she might break under the sound of a firm voice. Fox bristled a little without quite realizing it, her blonde furs fluffing up.

What's it to you? She grumbled, ears flicking, gaze darting away. She didn't need his pity or whatever. Foxglove took a half-step back, shook her furs out, and turned to face westward for a moment. They left. These things happen. I'm heading down south anyway, s'warmer out there. Warmer and golden and filled with memories of her family, but she couldn't say that to a stranger. Maybe not to anyone at all.