Wapun Meadow leave a light on

her words land deeper than claws ever could.
his ears cant back, not in threat, but something closer to discomfort. he huffs through his nose and turns his head away, gaze fixing on nothing in particular. the line of his jaw tightens, then eases.
hm, he answers, rough and low. not denial.
women had always undone him. not with force, not with challenge—but with softness, with the way they noticed things he tried to bury. it had been his failing. his pull.
he shifts his weight, tail giving a single, subdued sweep behind him.
i look, he admits at last. sparse. honest. because i noticed you.
a pause. then, quieter—almost reluctant.
and because i wanted to.