Only You fretted and picked at the tidy bundle of white flowers she had carefully collected, neatly spilling out of a lovely spiral seashell she found on the beach that made her think of, of course, of the very doe she planned to give it to. She had searched high and low for each one - all shapes and sizes, large and small, dahlias and daisies and mums and magnolias and some she couldn't name, a dazzling assortment, albeit a small one (seashells, even large ones, could only hold so much). But now she slightly worried that she might pick the bundle apart before its recipient could receive it. Only You looked around again anxiously. Meeting at Ghost Thistle's mound in the midst of the festival might have been a bad plan, she realized. Other kin might have flowers for All of Me. Probably a lot of flowers, she noticed, as she became keenly aware of how many kin were wandering about with white bundles in their mouths - presenting them to others - weaving them into hair and tails.
With an anxious squeak, she carefully picked up her seashell bundle. The doe found the crowd terribly intimidating, but if it became necessary, she would plunge right in to find her lady friend, who might perhaps need rescuing. She at least would be safe from the flower-flingers...probably.
But...well, she hadn't been waiting that long, yet. Maybe a few more minutes.