Northstar Vale shotguns and barbed wire fences

The correction and corresponding punishment was accepted without protest. He did move back from her jaws, but Alya wouldn't have just sat there to be harried, either. That was fine. He moved then to lie beside her, and some inaccesible coil of anxiety abrubtly loosened and dispersed. Her head lolled to better track his movements, but her eyes were half-lidded, now, giving the impression of lazy acceptance. She was close to it, at least.

A snuffle of encouragement escaped her as he combed his teeth through her fur. The Moonspear girl shifted - slow, so slow - rolling back toward him an inch or two so that she was almost more on her back than her side. Her teeth sought him again, this time aimed at the fur of his chest. She tugged gently at the fur there, and then pushed her nose into it until it until his heart pulsed again her leathery nares. This, of course, caused her to sneeze, and then she was quite limp against him, tail wagging in yet another sign of encouragment. What a good boy, she thought, peering up at him to see what he would do next, or if there was something more he needed from her in order for her to keep his attention.