Bramblepoint The shape of brat pop to come

peregrine sought to assure lasher that the problem lay not with tongue but with loins, but never before had such a thing happened beneath the druid's loving touch, and he was not quick to believe the dark wolf. yet the gentle, playful clip of the panther's teeth provoked a diverting growl from the earthen servant -- he too flashed his fangs in the direction of the ebon god and darted aside, rump lifted in a bow of play.

if peregrine chose to follow, lasher would lead him on a merry chase indeed.