Fox's Glade someone only you could want

"all right." mariposa would almost have followed, but that was for crowfeather, though silvertongue could not discover why she should wait any longer. perhaps it was because it had always been his name. perhaps it was her settled words. perhaps, maybe — there was great fear in silvertongue to turn love, to turn affection, into a mutual gold rather than holding all the coinage in her grieving paws. she sighed it out; she looked into the eyes of the woman who had loved her body with such intrinsic wisdom. now their minds had touched, psyches not in a collision but a discourse; "all right," silvertongue whispered again.