Phoenix Maplewood true like ice, true like fire

An ear twitched as she ate. He stood guard alongside her, and she trusted in his surveillance. There was no gesture that revealed he saw anything troublesome. Sunday Morning was at ease. For many months, during her journey here, she had almost forgotten the feel of peace. Each meal was quick and rushed. She knew well how to kill coyotes, but against three she would forfeit her meals in favor of her health. Sunday Morning had not slept soundly in all of that time, up until she had come across Mountain Boulder.

She was refreshed, and even now she did not starve. They had feasted upon their own find but days ago, and so when Sunday Morning felt satisfied she nosed the remainder of the hare toward him, an almost insistent snort filling the air. She did not yet sit, and now she too looked around them. Her tongue lolled in a quiet pant as she cooled off, ears swiveling again as she took in the sounds around them.