Permafrost Hollows clothed her in leaves and buds of crimson core

Derg's constant presence has been both a blessing and a curse, introverted as the girl is, but she's pleased to see him nonetheless when he enters the den. Her tail starts to swish of its own accord, heart thumping a little faster when he settles near her. She offers a shy, tired smile when he looks at her, though the expression fades slightly when she hears his sigh and notices his expression, assuming he must be in a bad mood. Good morning, Derg, She murmurs, shifting a little so she's closer to him and wondering, not for the first time, about the reaction he seems to inspire in her since the night she was attacked. She's not really sure what to do with these foreign feelings: the heat in her face, the fluttering sensation in her stomach when she looks at him or thinks about him. It's a new experience entirely, though not unpleasant by any stretch. It's just... confusing. She's never felt this way before, even about the wolves she loves the most, and more than anything she just wants to know what makes this so different. But she could never ask Derg — and she's not really in the mood to try to explain it to anyone anyway.