Fox's Glade thank goodness

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smoke lifted his head at her voice— just a slow rise of those lichenbone shoulders and a dark, tired gaze settling on her. snow whispered around them, no other sound cutting the air. she looked fuller now, steadier, but still uncertain as a fawn learning where the ground held firm.

her question hung there. one word. heavy with all the ones she didn’t say.

he blinked once. a part of him knew what she'd meant: but he was just a silly male.

why… what? he asked, voice low and rough, not unkind.

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