Bearclaw Valley pickin' me a bouquet of dogwood flowers

she felt the confusion ripple off of him in palpable waves, and she tried to assuage him with the frantic whipping of her tail.  she would never get better if she never let anyone touch her.  she watched him retreat and her eyes grew wide.  she had done wrong, she had ruined it, just as she thought.  

he lowers himself to the ground and she licks the air in front of his muzzle before working her way to his chin, littering it in a flurry of kisses as he holds out the flower.

was there more to this bouquet-giving than she had thought?  was this some ceremony that she did not understand?