Wapun Meadow leave a light on

and we love him for it

a familiar silhouette was forged at the edge of the meadow. she knew this scent. that figure. a shadow. her shadow?

there was a certain restlessness about having a man follow her, especially one so imposing. but she was not as wary of him as when they'd first encountered each other. if he'd meant her harm, he'd already had his chance at it.

so when he approached she did not elude him as her instincts so valiantly tried to direct. rather she bit down on her nail — hard and unwavering — until she felt a stinging pinch and tore free the claw from her flesh.

she spit the broken piece off a distance just as he spoke, her eyes dragging upward toward the crown of his towering frame. he spoke about as bluntly as he looked, and she quickly redirected her attention back to her paw at the mention of her bleeding.

"it will heal." a broken nail was an inconvenience at most.