I don't mind at all. March 6thish?[/html]
She was freezing. Even though a week had passed since her arrival in the snow-laden region she now called home, the mutt wasn't adjusting to the frigid air. Her home had been warm, and her fur wasn't made for the colder climate. Still, the Latin dog kept on trucking, determined to make the best of a less than desirable situation; Bartholomew deserved that much, especially after the warm welcome he gave her.
She left Cercatori d'Arte without her painted companion, walking on two legs rather than riding on four. Senorita deserved her break, and Krystalle was trying to exercise her body more since her interaction with the Phoenix Valley male. It was hard travel. The snow made her toes go numb. Still, the Californian moved through the eerie trees, swaying to the sounds of the barren forest. Her bag thudded against her hip, books clattering together inside of it and papers rustling. The author hadn't explored the forest as thoroughly as she'd wanted to before, and it was time to take notes and document what she saw.
The sound of foreign speech caught her flopped ears, drawing her scattered attention toward the source. Her path changed, feet carrying her in the direction of the words. It wasn't one of the languages she understood, though some of the faint words were understandable. Vita, finita. All things that resembled her Spanish understanding. As her pink eyes caught sight of the creature speaking, she hesitated; she was used to being around males, but the stranger evoked silence from her. He was a handsome, foreign stranger and she wondered where he had come from. He certainly didn't smell like her new family. Cautiously, she took a few more steps toward him, feet finding the ground anxiously. Her silent steps continued until a twig found itself under her padded paws, cracking beneath her weight.
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