Before I can stop myself, a grin spreads across my face. The image of Noël sinking her teeth into a running deer is indeed quite humorous.
My mate scoops a bit of ash and mint paste onto a little twig and begins gliding it along her flat, human teeth. Fascinating. Everything about humans is so small—their tools, their actions, and...
“You have very small teeth,” I say, leaning closer to inspect them.
She coughs, turning toward the face-washing basin, and my ears flick upright in alarm. Panic surges through me as I crouch beside her, fur rising along my back.
“Here!” I blurt, filling my paw with water and holding it out to her.
She washes her mouth with the water in my paw, and when she looks at me, she isn’t upset or sick. She’s... amused?
“Are you alright?” I ask, scanning her face. “Why did you start coughing?”
Her lips curve into a wide smile. “Theron! Don’t look at me like that!”
I tilt my head, knitting my brows.What did I do?
But she wipes her mouth and straightens, still smiling, so I ease my posture. If she’s fine, then all is well.
As she washes her face, I tighten my grip on the comb. Once she’s done, I can finally comb her hair. Maybe even braid it.
“I need to dress, Theron.”
Oh. I nod quickly, setting the comb aside and grabbing her gown from the counter. “Lift your hands,” I say, unfolding the fabric and holding it out for her.
She takes a breath, and I catch the barest hint of a grin tugging at her lips.
“Theron,” she says slowly, grounding herself as if she’s trying not to laugh.
My tail thumps against the face-washing basin, betraying my excitement. I step aside. She probably prefers to dress in silence.
“Youdo not dress me!” she says, that grin breaking through as she pushes me out of the bathing room.
“Why not? Mina dresses you.”
“And that is enough,” she replies, taking the gown from me and closing the door behind her.
I stand in the corridor, staring at the wooden door, blinking.
Does she think I cannot dress her?
My dove finally comes out of the bathing room, the comb in her hand.Finally.
I can do this now.
She walks past me with a wide grin. Anticipation roaring in my chest, I follow her through the corridor to one of the cushions.
“It will be more comfortable if you stand behind me,” she says. I nod and circle around her, positioning myself. She had to jump to sit comfortably. I should make them smaller.
Alright. She’s settled. I’ve seen Zephyr do this before.
I raise the comb to her roots, hesitating for just a moment as she turns to look up at me.
“Start from the bottom,” she instructs, “and slowly work your way up as you brush through the strands.”
I nod again, then grab her hair as gently as I can and glide the comb through her locks.
It’s... soothing. The repeated motion, the way her dark locks shine under the light of the crystals.
