Fox's Glade death at a funeral

Her eyes remained to him, focused, concentrated as though if she were to turn from him she might break the spell which had him lingering closer, closer... like moth to a flame. 

To his chuckle, she smiles, her tail moving to wave as his own did. That I am. Though I feel as though home is near. She smelt the pack on him - the ugly muddy healer, the beautiful blonde Taylor. Surely she was close. Would you take me home? She cooes and toys.