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

he starts, stops, starts again. the leader's ears sweep back, she takes a half-step back. she is bitterly disappointed, she knows she must respect his refusal; this has been her desire, and she respects her friend too much to forcefully draw him into it. she could find another, someone willing. but her brows furrow then as she realizes she does not want to — as much as she wants this, to seek it some other way feels wrong, she does not want another. 

"we have not know each other long, artyom. but already you are important—important to me." she recalls their conversation then, the more she hoped would follow. ears flick forward again, and it is with conviction that she claims, "I don't want any other, I don't want a fling. I want you. you." it is bold, perhaps, but it is without doubt. 

gaze meets his a moment, wanting him only to see. to feel, to understand the certainty she feels. "so say it again, if you really mean it. say you can't, and I'll go." this, softer.