the only way to get rid of

temptation is to yield to it

He was an alert thing, I give him that. Why wouldn't he be? I guess this is his family's turf and all. I know what I am doing, but can you blame me? Life can be...boring if you just lay around in your comfort zone all day. He does seem somewhat startled to see me, his voice giving off that feeling that tone that he is not exactly jumping for joy to see me. Well...he can get over it. I am here and if he wants me gone, then he will have to chase me out. I am pretty sure I can outrun him...I kept enough distance, and my blue eyes are on him. I am ready to jump and run if he does decide that I am not welcome. Part of me looks for it, perhaps a rush for the danger. But it does not appear to be the case.

He seems defensive but not ready to strike or run me out. My dark visage of midnight expressed my caution, and a slow pleasure when he does not show any menacing actions towards me. I just want to talk a bit about the tree. He seemed rather intrigued with it, which is honestly rather surprising with how grouchy he already seemed. I guess grouchy boys like trees too.

He question's the tree's ability to talk, and I lift a dark brow before my brilliant blue eyes give a bit of a roll themselves. My father may not have focused on the trees as much as the stars, but the trees had their own ways. The stars just happened to be up so very high, and see so very much more.

"Everything has a story if you listen. Everything," I say as my dark paws step lightly towards the tree- with my nose aiming towards a small rock near it. "This little rock has a story, this leaf too, all things can tell you about their past. Do you not see?" I question, lifting my head slightly again as I try to make sense of whatever faces he may be making at my words.

"This tree tells you many things. It once stood over there. It used to be small- very small. It sprouted from the ground. It managed to not get devoured by caterpillars or deer...or trampled by giant paws like yours. It then grew over many, many seasons," I say as I begin to carefully observe the falling tree, looking at the details that it gives me. "You see- it was home to many a bird, chewed on by the toothiest of woodland creatures. See here? It was chewed on and it healed over- you see the difference? The scar?" I ask as my nose nudges the spot on the tree, my blue eyes staring at it in wonder as I learn the life that the tree held before it died- and also observe what happened to it in death. I tilt my head over to the young man, seeing if he was at all receptive to my words, if he held any wonder in his eyes...or if he remained distant and cold. My eyes narrow a bit as I focus in on him, before looking back to the fallen tree to gather more of the story that flows from it.

Belhara