Windsong
#46
The dahlian male stepped a little higher after her wonderful comment. The mountain of a man was utterly small compared to the weight of her being near him. So as he walked he couldn’t help but slowing down from time to just be closer to her. This time he took his time leading her to the spring complex. The walk would take an hour at least if they kept this pace but he didn’t mind. Because he enjoyed when his tail would swat just right and brush against her body.

For a while he had wanted to play, this form allowed for such frivolous actions. While he could dominate almost anyone while he walked upright, this form made things much more complex, it also felt more natural to be in contact with another wolf. The intimacy it shared and he took a mental note to make sure they were in their more natural form more often when they met each other.

Time passed and finally they arrived at the drop off leading to the stream fed spring. Being thirsty he jumped down nimbly before letting his tongue lap up some of the cool liquid. Finally he spoke after the long trip.

“This is it, the spring,” his maw raised up in a wolfish grin before darting across the stream and up the other hill side, his tail held high above his rear, ears perked atop his head before he sat his front down low along the ground in the universal signal for play.


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