wrap me in thorns

He coursed through the ravine with the grace of a dancer, prancing like a stag where climbing was needed and galloping like a stallion over flat stretches of land until his pale monarch came into view. “You sang for me?” He asked, skulking closer to his brother with his head lowered and his ears pinned back submissively.

He didn’t dare approach Hannibal as anything other than a submissive, his white tail low and slightly tucked as he crept closer, his body lowering to nuzzle his brother’s chin affectionately. Rosemary typically wasn’t one to initiate affection but around Hannibal he made an exception, although he suspected the male had no love for him other than what was typically afforded to his siblings.

Speaking  Thinking you