Lost Creek Hollow cuate

high noon in riverclan was only slightly warmer than it was any other time. the interlaced canopies darkened in soft shadows that held faint dapples of sunshine; the tall ancients brought cool air in breezeways that made the riverbank a sunning area for wolf and butterflies alike, and it was with their little wings climbing her shoulders and the slope of her hip, the edge of her jawline, that silvertongue lazed, allowing herself the rich tastes of a daydream, a life spent with @Crowfeather alone under these emerald trees.