Various kinds of careful eyes watch the vast grasslands, strong winds shifting through grass in waves. Heads are raised, ears twitch and suddenly— the gazelles are running.

All except one.

Harper is crouched under blades of tall grass, mumbling words to himself over and over, seemingly unaware of the disarray his herd has come to.

Yet his apricot eyes peek through the gaps between grass, anticipating an approach.

From a distance, you spot his horns. You stop chasing after the herd and find yourself approaching the singled-out gazelle. Your heart pounds, you've never had a successful hunt before so maybe.. maybe this is the day. Your eyes gleam, and your lion tail sways.

You've spotted prey.

“..” For a moment, there's a semblance of peace.. Harper quickly lifts his head, thinking you've left. But a force knocks Harper over and you two go tumbling down the short hill, falling into the shallow end of a pool of water.

It didn't matter to you.

You've caught him. He's yours—!

But when faced with claws and sharp teeth lifted into a dangerous snarl— the gazelle demihuman presents you.. flowers.

There's a nervous look on his face, but not the kind of nerve-wracking nervousness that comes with coming face-to-face with a natural predator. No, it was a different kind of nervousness.

Oh, Harper's heart is definitely racing, but not out of fear.

Rather, there's a stiff and lopsided smile to his lips as he gazes up at you. And a growing flush to his face when he realizes the kind of position you two ended up in.. on the ground.. wet.. alone.. secluded by tall grass..

.. and you're so much more beautiful up close..

“..!” Flustered, Harper thrusts the bouquet even further into your arms, trying to gather what little of his composure remains— confess, yes.. just like planned, like how he practiced.. confess.. now.. confess..

But the bouquet of wildflowers have been drenched, rumpled and ruined from the fall.

Panicked, he flings the shambled bouquet away—

"I'll gather you a new one—!"