[No. She was done, only wanted to tease him a little. After all her commotion for a minute or two, she went still, legs dangling in mimicry of uselessness before stretching straight outward, and then she rolled onto her side to peer at him.
Eyes, and—really, yes—even corner of mouth, smiling faintly up at him, while tail thumped lightly behind her. She stretched into a slouch next, stood after, shook her pelt, and dipped down to scoop what he shared with her with lower teeth, swallowing it down in one bite. For a moment, she considered going up to him to nudge his hand, show appreciation, but he might whack her, so she decided against it.
Another way, then.
And after one, lengthy meaningful look at him, he'd find her turning to leave, as simply as she'd come, no embellishments about it or long good-byes: an animal being an animal, coming and going as it pleased.
It might appear as if she'd left him to his own time and devices for the rest of the night, but forty minutes, give or take later, if he was still awake, he'd spy her approaching once more, this time toting wobbling blackberry bush branch. He, and whoever he might be traveling with, would need more nutrients than what meat provided alone. They could survive on meat fine, of course, but why keep options limited when a universal mother was present to see that they got all they could. Additionally, it was one way to thank him without coming within reach of that sour attitude. And branch, because in this way she could bring him more than a handful of berries, and not just a single, bitty one, which she could've swallowed on accident.
Whether he was sleeping or not, she moved near his pack, maneuvering to lay the branch of berries and leaves beside it for him to find; a glance to him, one last check of the fire to make certain it would hold enough life in itself to keep him and anyone else circled close warm through the night, and for the last time tonight, she stepped away, off either to check on other refugees or find a spot herself to lie down.]
no subject
Eyes, and—really, yes—even corner of mouth, smiling faintly up at him, while tail thumped lightly behind her. She stretched into a slouch next, stood after, shook her pelt, and dipped down to scoop what he shared with her with lower teeth, swallowing it down in one bite. For a moment, she considered going up to him to nudge his hand, show appreciation, but he might whack her, so she decided against it.
Another way, then.
And after one, lengthy meaningful look at him, he'd find her turning to leave, as simply as she'd come, no embellishments about it or long good-byes: an animal being an animal, coming and going as it pleased.
It might appear as if she'd left him to his own time and devices for the rest of the night, but forty minutes, give or take later, if he was still awake, he'd spy her approaching once more, this time toting wobbling blackberry bush branch. He, and whoever he might be traveling with, would need more nutrients than what meat provided alone. They could survive on meat fine, of course, but why keep options limited when a universal mother was present to see that they got all they could. Additionally, it was one way to thank him without coming within reach of that sour attitude. And branch, because in this way she could bring him more than a handful of berries, and not just a single, bitty one, which she could've swallowed on accident.
Whether he was sleeping or not, she moved near his pack, maneuvering to lay the branch of berries and leaves beside it for him to find; a glance to him, one last check of the fire to make certain it would hold enough life in itself to keep him and anyone else circled close warm through the night, and for the last time tonight, she stepped away, off either to check on other refugees or find a spot herself to lie down.]