practice makes perfect

Tonight when he came past the border, he picked up on a familiar scent, his tail flagging happily behind him as he moved to follow the trail. She was certainly out for a long wander tonight. He wondered if she even really wanted to see him at all?

Finally, just as she sun began to peek above the horizon, he spotted her. She was sitting back from the cliffs with a clear view across the ocean. A lump rose in his throat and Arne struggled to swallow around it. Well that was really strange. Usually he would bound forward with reckless abandon, not stopping to think that maybe the momentum would carry them clear over the edge of the cliff… but she made him cautious.

Instead he strolled over, trying to look cool (as cool as anyone could look with scabby wounds from where the crystals had fallen out and mud and twigs through their unkempt fur. He smiled as he broke the silence. "Y’ come here often?