Nana whined, nudging her mate incessantly over to the small section of the rock that was smooth. Daemon grudgingly followed, grumbling under his breath but unable to resist the urging from the other smaller wolf. “What is it, woman?” he finally snapped.
Nana nipped at his ear sharply at his tone, but whined again, nosing the flat rock with a happy smile. Her nose was covered in brown, flaky speckles, joining with her natural black freckles and her paws were equally covered in spattered mud. Despite her mess, she yipped happily when Daemon finally took notice of her drawing, her tail wagging back and forth in excitement and kicking up a small cloud of dirt and dust in its wake.
Daemon looked up at the drawing, taking in the crudely drawn two figures, before looking back at his oddly pleased mate. Nana took one paw, setting it on the standing figure in the drawing before gesturing it back to Daemon.
“That one…” Daemon said skeptically while raising an eyebrow, “is me? And am I to assume the other one is you?”
Nana yipped in assent, giving Daemon a hardy affectionate nudge in response followed by a short, sweet lick on his nose.
Daemon wrinkled his nose, but did not move away or attempt to dissuade her. He simply continued to stare at the crude, simple figures that Nana had painstakingly drawn. Nana did not speak, and Daemon had long discovered that it was because she could not as opposed to would not. She could yip and whine and howl as well as the next wolf, but Daemon had never heard his mate speak a single word. He knew she loved him; she showed it to him in her body language, in her sweet kisses and gently nuzzles. This though, he thought as he continued to stare at the painting, this warmed him in a way that her previous gestures of affection had not.
Daemon did not disguise the glow of affection he felt for Nana as he gave her a sweet lick behind her ear, enjoying the content rumble that came from her chest as a result. She carefully separated herself from him after a few moments to take a few steps to the side, finally nosing a flat slab of rock to sit before the both of them. The rock had the slightest dip in the center, where a puddle of thin brown clay sat. Nana yipped again, dipping one of her front paws into the clay while giving Daemon a pointed look. Carefully, she turned back to the drawing, holding her wet paw in the air, and firmly pressed it against the rock, just to the side of her finished drawing. She took a step back, satisfied, and looked back at Daemon expectantly.
When Daemon remained still, she sighed, nosing the flat slab forward again in emphasis and lifting her paw to mime dipping it back into the makeshift paint.
Daemon sighed but assented, copying Nana and pressing his paw print into the stone wall before settling back to admire the handiwork. Daemon smiled as he curled himself around his sweet, perfect little mate. “You silly little thing,” he murmured into her ear. She may not be able to speak her love to him, but she had found a way to immortalize it in stone. One day they would both be gone, but maybe this painting, this simple declaration of her love for him, would last so much longer.
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