Deepwood Weald the only ring i want buried with me are the ones around my eyes

He whines softly as he feels Midar stirring against him, releasing a breath when he feels his lover's tongue against his ear. A shiver runs through him and he presses a little more tightly to the other, smiling faintly into his fur at the greeting. Good morning, He mumbles, voice muffled, and nips playfully at Midar's fur. I think I would freeze to death without you. He really means it; his own coat is thin, ill-suited to winter's frigid temperatures, and he often struggles to keep himself warm in the night. Or, he did — before he had Midar.