Their children will learn to hope for a Caesar.

An odd, loud blurt escapes Duir’s mouth almost in time with a familiar female greeting.

The combination of noises sends my reeling back down to reality from where I’d been wandering around the trails of my head, covering the muttering that had preceded her appearance, but also disguising her arrival at all. A startled expression meets her stammered greeting, golden eyes luminous and wide, and my mind blooms with the sound of mentally shared laughter that Duir had, finally, managed to make me jump a little… even if he had required help.

An unmistakable beacon of joy, he is immediately alongside Rexanna, his dark, damp nose reaching up in friendly greeting of Marembo, chocolate ears twitching delightedly. His antlers, now visible, two inch stubs with one, miniscule and curved prong, still have rounded tips, but are none-the-less objects of pride for the young buck, and he also no longer wears his spots. Still, he is still undeniably the same idiot fawn that the polecat met months ago, as evidenced by his sheer delight to have run into his first friend again.

"Rexanna," I manage with a smile, despite the thudding of my heart (not entirely attributed to being startled), turning away from the red water to look fully at her. Distracted, or perhaps worn down by the horrible summer we’ve had, she looks less cheerful than she had when we’d met last. She’s still just as pretty as last time, however - maybe even more so - with the crimson light making her golden facets twinkle like they’re embellished with rubies, and her aureate skin kissed crimson like the last dying rays of light reaching up over the horizon. Mostly, however, I’m interested in the way the strange luminance of the red forest makes her curves all the more dramatic, the shadows colored blood black and numerous to extenuate exactly where she’s supple. Like last time, no, definitely more so than last time, it’s hard to think. This time, there is only her, not a tiny new thing and his dancing, cherubic emotions distracting me.

Trying my best to not leer at her like an extremely frustrated virgin (which I am, let’s not forget), I attempt to be a gentlemen, and take note of her face, rather than her legs. Despite the latter being a great temptation, there is a certain amount of emotional turmoil happening in the depths of her blue eyes that manages to make it through my normally dense skull.

"Is something wrong?" It feels dumb now that I’ve asked it. It’s too late, though, the syllables projected. My ears splay ever so slightly in embarrassment at myself, especially because the question probably isn’t that earnest… I was just looking at her, after all, and not just as a measure of physical ability.