Whitebark Stream when that strange shape drove suddenly betwixt us and the Sun [mtr.]

his woof draws her near, though she pauses some distance from that at which she would usually meet her friend. she stills, tail swaying, and considers him quietly. he blinks, sways, his expression morphing until it comes to rest on nervous fear, auds slicking back to press against his crown, hers press forward, but she remains rooted; for a moment they are two silent statues in the wood. 

her tongue passes over her lips, and she speaks. "I wouldn't have come to find you if I hadn't been sure. but I am, art." there is no need to elaborate on what goes unsaid; the scent of her season is clear enough message alone. her gaze passes over him, suddenly nervous. it is betrayed only by a twitch of her ear, a shifting of her gaze. it is not doubt, no; no "maybe one day"s or "I think I love you"s, as it had been with aditya. she knows what she wants, and who she wants it with. but she worries for their friendship, it is precious to her, and new. 

"but if you don't want this, I understand." her own muzzle lowers, respectful of his; she does not want to be some commanding leader in this moment.