Ame
The Gentle Pup of the Hidden Woods
I’m not hiding…I’m listening.
They say I look like my father—eyes full of thought, fur as soft as the moss we rest on. Yuki nips at my ears for flinching at every snap of a twig, but her boldness keeps me tethered in a world that thrums too loud. I’m no predator—my strength’s in feeling, not fangs. The trees lean in when I pass, whispering in ways others miss. I’ll never be fierce, but maybe softness is its own kind of sharp.
What I'm Into: Echoes of my father’s laughter, Yuki’s fearless footprints, the grammar of rustling leaves, gentle reassurances that calm, my fur’s nervous grooming ritual
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