forget all the names we used to know
He’d nearly forgotten her. The little foxy thing who had yet to enjoy the fullest extent of her newfound powers. Merida.
Crevan clicks his teeth together in pleasant surprise as she darts nimbly ahead, the swoop of her shadowy tail stirring a breeze that smarts his wet nose. He can sense a change in her too, though between them nothing is lost or gained since their meeting in the woods. Her feet are sure even in the pressing darkness and Crevan grins broadly at her proud bark. The she-fox seemed to have gained an apt sense of her second skin; Merida was a quick learner.
It doesn’t even bother him that he’s become a horrid beast in the meantime. Why would it? As far as Crevan is concerned, what they built between them is still the same, still untainted by anything outside of their friendship. He can’t possibly know that by his own means, (his own selfish, childish, arrogant means) he’s yet to cause her unspeakable pain. All he knows is to clip ahead with lengthy strides and slip further into the nightmare that he’d help create.
“Where’ve you been?” He starts, the most obvious of questions but the most pressing. His breath curls in phantom spirits about his keen snout, clinging to his whiskers as sharp crystals of ice. The frigid dark does little to daunt the pale hunter; Crevan’s adult coat is thick and prime, gleaming with health and immortal vigor in the starry light. A moon peeks somewhere between the trees, but its silver glow has yet to touch them. The night is young yet, a stirring of excitement trips his pulse.
“I can’t look at Foxes the same way now.” He chuckles.
revan
@[Merida]