- Jun 20, 2022
- 93
- 14
- 8
The silvery tom is silent as he cuts through the camp, a mouthful of minnows dangling from his jaws. Willowroot has landed herself in the medicine den for the day, likely having exhausted herself into a migraine. The two of them had never been…close, but they were Buckgait’s dearest friend. The least he could do for his lost mate is make sure the warrior is alright. So, he steps into the den, curled ears flat as he deposits the minnows at her nest. “Eat,” He instructs lowly before settling back outside on his belly, a fox-length away. He’s not one for invading personal space - in fact, he typically gives too much space.
A moment passes, his hazel eyes half-lidded and bored-looking, but still he utters, “How have you been? You know, since…” Since she was lost to us. He blinks and tilts his muzzle away, avoiding eye contact.
// @willowroot
A moment passes, his hazel eyes half-lidded and bored-looking, but still he utters, “How have you been? You know, since…” Since she was lost to us. He blinks and tilts his muzzle away, avoiding eye contact.
// @willowroot