Bitterroot Valley A Strange Kindness

twitch blinked, slow, pausing her work to look to him. “me?” she echoed, too soft, like she hadn’t expected the offer at all. her gaze flicked from the little rabbit to his paws, then to his face, searching for the joke. she doesn't find one. he was serious.

a breath left her, small and startled, nose dipping toward her own feathers as if to hide the flicker of warmth crawling up her throat. “don't think it'll fit me too well,” her claws resumed plucking, slower now while she thinks. her mouth twisted, unsure. “could be good for sleep, maybe,”—yes, that'd work.

decidedly, she nods. “keep it a bit.” a pause, then context: “needs your scent first. i sleep better in the illusion of company.” real company, too, but that felt to forward to admit now.