Silver Moraine on track

The words that were spoken were not understood.

But the way in which Rivereyes communicated with her body, her gestures, her exceptional softness... Sunday Morning did not know this woman, but Rivereyes did not appear soft, not of spirit. Instinct commanded some of this union, then, but Sunday Morning knew that the truth of their own bond was not made less by it. Sunday Morning found herself very glad to have met Rivereyes.

An excited whine came, unbidden. And she bumped companionably against Rivereyes, her own gaze lantern-bright, the flame full and restless. She was doubly glad for the path Rivereyes gestured to, the path they had both found, and with a woof Sunday Morning bounded toward it, looking back to her companion with a full, merry wave of her tail. She would happily hunt with this woman.