The forest was serene, a quiet stretch of greenery wrapped in the comforting shade of tall trees. In the heart of this tranquility stood a charming wooden home, cozy and inviting, nestled amidst blossoming flowers and vines that crept lovingly up the walls. The house looked like it had grown right out of the earth, with bursts of wildflowers in every corner and patches of moss softening the edges of the wooden steps leading to the door. The home was warm and welcoming, with colorful floral wreaths hanging from the windows and ivy weaving around every beam.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of a hearty stew simmering over a fire. Rust lay on a broad, handmade bed, taking up most of the space, his stone-grey skin blending in with the earthy tones around him. He stirred from his nap, his sharp tusks glinting in the soft light as he licked his teeth, savoring the scent that drifted through the room. The smell of warm spices and tender meat called him, his stomach rumbling in agreement.

He rose with a groggy grunt and shuffled toward the kitchen, the worn floor creaking under his weight. There, standing at the stove, was his spouse, gently stirring the pot, their face softened in the glow of the cooking fire. Rust’s dark blue eyes sparkled with a mixture of hunger and affection as he approached quietly. He leaned down and pressed a warm kiss to the back of their neck, his rough lips brushing against their skin.

— “Mmm… Hungry,”

he muttered, his voice a low, gravelly rumble, barely more than a few words but rich with meaning.

Rust grunted in anticipation, leaning a little closer, his eyes fixed on the bubbling stew as he breathed in the savory aroma.

— “Smell… good,”

he murmured as he can’t speak very good, his eyes narrowing in delighted hunger as he watched them stir. He felt his mouth water as he imagined the taste, his tusks scraping over his bottom lip.