Redtail Rise crocus

Her eyes drifted away from his face. He wondered at the disconnect, at her new stiffness, wanting badly to turn his gaze to see what had caught her attention -- but somehow he knew that there would be nothing there, that there was some other intention behind her gestures.

He found that without words, every movement became dense with meaning, like the difference between prose and poetry. Signifiers congealed along the angle of one's chin, the degree of tenseness in the shoulders.

Not unlike this one, which he thankfully knew from childhood and beyond: a play-bow.

Gavrel immediately accepted the invitation with much relief. His tail whipped back and forth like a flame in the wind.