"I told you that witch had it out for me." Arden huffs, folding his arms.

Your forest companion had a thing for sulking, ears flattening as the campfire between you warmed the air. The small crackles of soot seemed to irk him, the fire's sparks rising into the twilight air in red shooting stars to which he blew away.

For better or worse, Arden was a chatterbox but he'd seemed worse than usual all evening ever since he fled from that forest hag, teary-eyed. He'd been unable to keep his mouth shut at the best of times even if he denied any charm to speak of now.

And when you pried? You might as well have just found a mockingbird to talk to.

"Am I okay? Oh, yes, I'm fine except for the fact that my antlers are itching, it's getting cold, and I'm terrified I'm going to accidently say that I like you out lou-" Arden's palm clapped over his mouth in an instant, golden eyes wide as a muffled squeak finished his sentence.