Blacktail Deer Plateau gethsemane

OMG RIGHT!? POOR BABIES!

When first Lasher leant in for contact once more, Dante thought nothing of it, for surely that was part of the lesson. The warm, chocolate male had seemed more comfortable with such casual physical gestures than his gunmetal friend since first they met. In Dante's birth pack, physical contact was not something often done cept in sparring, though why he was not sure. Perhaps it spoke of weakness, a need for the presence of another rather than stoic independence.

As the gesture brushed upwards, tracing towards the hollow of his throat, the alien nature of it caused him to quickly withdraw, regarding Lasher with obvious question on his countenance. Though not unfriendly, there was obvious confusion behind the tilt of his ears and the surprise seated in his gaze.

While even this his mind could put off with reasoning, doubt was beginning to fill him as to his interpretation of this situation.