Red Fern Forest won't cry for a king

Only the top five? She muttered, faux disapproval creeping into her tone. Her nose ruffled the fur of his chest. She had half a mind to jab him for saying such a thing but the other half was pretty dead set on keeping their position like this. There was an oddly warm sensation in her chest but she brushed it off, something to be delt with later. And here I was, thinking of putting you in my top three. She'd never tell which number he'd be out of three though. Well, maybe she could be convinced if he begged or pleaded. Only maybe.

Her tail swayed slowly behind her as she realized things were good again. Maybe everything wasn't perfect and maybe she wasn't completely healed of what had ailed her upon departure, but she was certainly feeling better in this moment.

You know...it's not nearly as exciting out there without ya. It was the truth. No spar partner or scouting group had made her feel as lively as Sachiel always had. Which...wasn't to say that the plateau had been bad but it certainly had nothing on the Lore.

He scoffed at her comment, a coy grin perched neatly across his tawny maw. Top three? he quipped in response as he pulled away from their embrace, his mismatched gaze meeting her pools of orange that he once loathed. Not because of her, of course. There was nothing she could do to make him loathe her. But the colour—he had never been fond of it until now. It was loud and overbearing. Obnoxious. But now, now it was home. It was the most important colour in the world. It was Hawthorne. We both know I’m your number one, he added with a sharp wink, the lopsided smirk still in place as he quickly pressed his nose to hers.

He took a small step back, his bicoloured pools still flitting over her silver features, searching for anything out of place. She had made it back in one piece... but had the horrid thoughts left her mind? Had she found what she had been looking for. The corners of his mouth dropped as she spoke, his black-tipped tail swaying slowly behind him. It ain’t the same here without you, either, he answered in a soft voice, his ears falling to the side as his gaze finally averted from hers. Nothing is, he admitted, almost bashfully, as he struggled to keep his composure. I really missed you. The tough guy act was over because he really couldn’t hold it in anymore. He had missed her far too much. And she needed to know she was missed. That he hadn’t forgotten about her no matter how hard he tried. That he wasn’t angry with her, even though he had tried that, too. He cared for her too much.

phone post so i apologize for any errors

ridge is a mature character

aka he curses a lot due to his frustation with his memory loss

x

ridge associates colours with moods/feelings & uses them to describe others