Word Count→323 ::
She was warm and comfortable, leaning into him like she was, but he seemed sad as he spoke. Eager to make him smile, her attempt to give him something of a kiss brought about a startled jolt. The woman lurched forward, away from him, with a faint grimace. She hadn't expected such a sharp reaction from the seemingly docile male. Though she wasn't injured, or even really upset, he started to stumble through an apology for his action. She listened to the stammer, letting soft laughter filter from her maw. She pressed a russet hand to his chest and shook her head, turning her eyes up to his blue ones from beneath her lashes. "Calm down, dear prince. I'm fine."
His concern for her was astounding. No one had ever before taken such offense to their own actions around her. Even Ezekiel, who had followed her to the ends of the wilderness, didn't seem so gentle. But this over sized man, with his clear wolf legacy, treated her like fine china that could so easily break. It reached a soft spot in her heart that she didn't realize was there, except in the presence of her brother and father. "I'm not so delicate that a twitch will hurt me," she reassured. She hoped to ease his mind, but wasn't sure she would be able to.
Her dainty fingers tugged at the scarf about his neck, leaning in curiously to study it closer. She wore her own skirt, but she wasn't so used to things made from fabric that were worn around the neck. Necklaces were different, finer and less obtrusive. The scarf seemed awkward, and she wondered if it was uncomfortable. How would he hunt if his neck was restricted? Of course, that was assuming he hunted at all. Apart from his teeth being far too clean, his concern for her comfort and physical well-being left her assuming he really didn't hunt for himself.
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