"Do you remember the day we first met?" 

Tattanu asks as they lean against the otter beside them, whose paw gently reaches up to scritch under the beaver's chin. The smell of flowers and herbs from the salves she made earlier in the day lingers on her dense pelt, enticing them to place a small nuzzle upon her neck with a chitter. It is a bright and sunny day; the river is calm and easy and there is only a hint of a breeze rustling the reeds and willow leaves.

"How could I not?" Nisaba snorts, her webbed paw moving from under her friend's chin to their cheek. "You got harrassed by an angry goose and I had to chase them off while your father and bati Painú were inside playing their board game, goose-bait."

Tattanu rolls their eyes with a chuckle, leaning closer into the otter's neck. Even after so many seasons, she's never going to let them live that one down.
The two companions recline against the trunk of the willow tree with a collective amused sigh.

"You also gave me the prettiest shell that you'd found earlier that day.A fairly large one with wavy pink and white lines. I think I remember you said it was a good luck charm." Tattanu's ears flatten slightly, their glance sliding up and down between Nisaba's face and the small birch bark box sitting off to the side that the beaver had brought with them. "And I, uh... I still have it, actually..."

"Aww, do you really, after all this time?" 

A giggle escapes the otter as Nisaba's gaze follows Tattanu's, procuring a slight raise of her eyebrow. A calm, easy paw rests itself on the beaver's back, claws gingerly rubbing through their fur as the other paw continues holding their cheek to her neck.

"So what's with the box there, dear?" Nisaba asks. "You brought it here and haven't said a word about it at all."

Tattanu fidgets in the otter's paws at the question, before slowly disentangling themself from their friend's caress. "Well, darling, I... I wanted to make you something. I don't know if it's to your taste, but I... hope you like it." 

The beaver's paws fumble with the bark box's lid for a moment before it finally comes off. A small gasp escapes the otter’s lips as nervous claws daintily remove from the small container the product of over five springs and summers of work as Tattanu takes a knee before their friend: dangling from their fingers is a hand-made necklace of three strands of the finest twine, each with a score or so of glimmering pearls.

Among the several dozens of rosaline buttons strung between Tattanu’s paws, Nisaba’s eyes find the shell hanging front and center. A few oily tears well up in her eyes as a twinge of recognition flutters in her heart; there is no mistaking the centerpiece of the beaver’s work for anything else. The pink and coral lines along the ridges of that shell’s surface are as vibrant and lively as they were so many seasons ago when she gave it to them.

“Is that…?”

“Y-yes, it is.”

“Tattanu… Sun and moon, this is absolutely beautiful! I… I don’t know what to say…" Nisaba’s gaze shifts between the kneeling beaver and the pearl-laden necklace draped between their paws. "I love it!”

Tattanu raises their eyes to meet the otter’s warmly smiling visage. Their heart pounds in their chest as she takes the necklace in her claws and gingerly drapes it around her neck. It looks so beautiful on you… Their eyes shift between Nisaba’s face and the shell now resting on her chest as the otter fastens the catch and loop.

“Tattanu?”

The sudden mention of their name, spoken with that warm tone they have come to cherish, snaps Tattanu from their thoughts. “Y-yes?”

“Is… this what you were so nervous about?”

The beaver's whiskers droop like the willow leaves above them.

"That’s not all that’s on your mind, is it?”

They glance down at the mossy ground.

“If there’s something you want to ask me, then please speak up, dear. Even as long as I’ve known you, I can’t read your mind.”

Tattanu closes their eyes and inhales deeply, letting out a long sigh with a snivel as they kneel on both knees and plant their forehead to the ground, tail and ears flattened. Nisaba’s eyes widen as her paws cover her heart.

“Nisaba, my dearest, oldest friend… Since the day we met all those seasons ago, you have been my most steadfast companion, my closest confidante and the light of my life in my darkest moments. You have come to fill a special place in my heart, and now I cannot imagine a world without you in it. My nisíbanú, will… will you take me for your one and only, so long as there be love between us?”

Tattanu’s voice is quiet. It trembles like the placid purl of the river next to them rolling around the large stones sticking above its surface, or the soft rustling of willow leaves in the wind above, and then there are only the sounds of nature between them. A thousand thoughts thunder in the beaver’s brain, their tender heart tossed hither and thither in a tempest of tormenting dubiety; dubiety, whose all-grasping paws have their heartstrings pulled taught like the strings of a lyre.

Nisaba wipes a tear from her eye as her gaze shifts between Tattanu and the shell necklace hanging around her neck and back again. 
After what feels like an eternity of silence, the otter leans down and hoists the beaver to their feet, wrapping her arms around them in a firm embrace with a laugh as a tender smile spreads across her muzzle.

“Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes, I will take you, Tattanu, you silly, wonderful beaver!”