Bitterroot Valley A Strange Kindness

the girl gasps in feigned offense, "all feathers?!" she repeated, scandalized. "you wish. this thing could knock you on your ass if it still had a pulse." even then, her grin remains the same—pleased he had noticed at all.

his tail thumps the spot beside him, an invitation she accepts with careful consideration. twitch toes closer into his space tentatively, paws anxious in their placement until she lowers herself, gray coat brushing his ever-so-slightly at the hip. was she too close, or not close enough?

"you're telling me," she scoffs, inhaling before she continues; "either sleeping too long or not at all," her voice small when she admits it, but it is matter-of-fact. "today was an awake day, apparently." she hooked a foreclaw into the pheasant’s breast and yanked free a clump of feathers, shooting him a sidelong glance as they drifted away on the breeze.

"so. figured I’d be productive." another pluck, another tiny pile of down. "what's your excuse?"