Silvertip Mountain worn pathways

He stood silently, glancing over her as she rambled about ghosts and mountains— somewhere in the back of her mind, she noticed that, but it didn't slow her monologue. When she finally did, her green eyes met his, watching him coyly beneath her lashes. When she had last seen him, she had been too young to understand crushes or love... even now, it was new and alien. Perhaps it wasn't love, but she suddenly felt something, looking at him there— listening to her without judgement, without anger. Not like what she assumed faced her at the Caldera.

Truthfully, that was the furthest thing from her mind, now— she was consumed only by him and the idea of ghosts. His next words, though they could have been anything, though he could have chimed in with accusations or judgement, formed only a question in response to her imaginative beliefs. Summer had always been that way; always kind to her, always accepting of whatever she was feeling. He was humoring her now, she knew, but it didn't matter.

Magpie grinned, then, and dashed towards him, affectionately bumping her snout against his cheek and planting a kiss over his muzzle. "Of course, Summer," she laughed happily, again dashing away before he had a chance to react. Moving towards the mountain paths, the earlier reasons that had caused her to hesitate now forgotten— because Summer would be there, with her— Magpie glanced over her shoulder to make sure he followed.