Fox's Glade and when you’re right, the strength to stand your ground
i will pry his bony fingers free
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indra was so lost in her thoughts, that a woof pulled her sharply out from them: she froze - she hated being caught off guard, especially alone. already a faint razing of hackles rose along her back, and she whipped around to face the creature that hailed her in both surprise and a thick vein of defensiveness.

her first assumption of him was that -- well -- it was a he -- that was enough to rackle her and make her feel justified in her defensive posture. despite being male, he seemed friendly enough; there was a warmth to those sunny eyes, and a friendliness in his greeting.

he could be lying, indra reminded herself: don't let your guard down. she steadied her stance and delivered a rather cool inspection of him: he was lanky, black, and accented by sharply contrasting white whiskers and little white toes that poked from his paws like marble in a slab of onyx. "need something?" her tone could almost pass as amicable -- were it not for the fact that warmth fell quite short of that shadowed mahogany gaze.
now the wren has gone to roost and the sky is turning gold,
and like the sky, my soul is also turning.
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