Blackfoot Forest take these crumbled hopes, etched with tears

When he wasn’t met by teeth he took it as a sign—perhaps he hadn’t messed up as royally as he previously thought. Maybe, somehow, there was still a chance to fully repair things and continued on as if nothing had ever happened—as if he hadn’t nearly chosen another over her. The memory, so recent and dreadful, threatened to crush him. Did she truly forgive him? Could she? Had the roles been reversed, he doubted he’d allow her as close again as she was currently letting him, which gave him a whole new reason to worry: what if it wasn’t real?

The possibility was entertained for a brief moment, easily chased away by her touch—and how he longed for more of it, letting her bury herself within his pelt. He liked this—he enjoyed being close to her, having her well within his reach and pressed up against him. He craved more; it was not just her touch that he was after or even the feeling of wrapping himself around her, but just her in general. Alexander wanted to keep her all to himself, repair whatever he’d broken between them and convince her not to leave.

But it was not an easy thing to do, not when there were others back home likely waiting for their return. Yet, he did not worry about them, not really; if it came down to it, he would give them what they wanted just to keep his friend safe, despite the pain he knew it’d cause if he were to be caught. Shaking his head, he again motioned back towards the valley whilst rising to his feet, urging her to join him.

I’ll protect you, he tried to convey, you don’t have to worry about anything. At any rate, he wasn’t going to just leave her there.