A M A L I A
It was still strange, hearing another's voice inside her head when she was in her human skin. Amalia smiled crookedly at the lion, sadness clear upon her face but absent, she hoped, from her voice. "Over here," she called out softly, kneeling down to the feline's height, a hand extended to touch his mane in gentle companionship, as well as to guide him closer to the shop.
"You're right. Bloodhounds have nothing on you." She winked, realizing belatedly that he would not be able to see, the action as pointless as any expression she could make. Frowning again, Amalia chewed gently on her lip, resisting the urge to hug the lion, to wrap him in a sorrowful embrace. But that would be for her benefit, not his, and Remi deserved friendship. She could deal with her sadness later; today she will offer him some sun.
"How about you come in and we can gather supplies, then set up a picnic in the back? There's some shade, and the garden loo- ah, smells lovely." Another blunder, another misstep. Idiot the baker silently cursed. Trying to keep a jovial mood, Amalia stood and walked inside, her hand still resting lightly on Remi, gently nudging him through the door.
