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She continued to hollow out the den alongside him, trying not to brush against his fur too often. The air was growing stale; she could almost taste the dirt particles on her tongue. In the tight space, she tried to take short, shallow breaths instead of awkward loud pants to fill the silence. All they needed to hear was their paws scraping against the dirt, until they could think of something better to talk about. Not the greatest way to spend her afternoon - cooped up underground - but someone had to dig out the den, and she wasn't going to let her knight in shining armour do all the work for her.

Just as she was starting to finish up her side of the den (it was all just a matter of patting it down and ensuring it was even and smooth), he asked her a harmless question. Was she okay? She almost choked on the rancid air, letting out a meek cough to disguise her surprise. He never asked her if she was okay, well, for no reason. How had it come to his mind? Was it because of their earlier silence hollowing out the den? Or perhaps before that when an unwanted thought had popped into her head? "Why wouldn't I be?" she answered in a hoarse voice, clearing her throat of the aggravating dirt particles.