Blackfeather Woods i am—yet what I am none cares or knows;

cicero's lips were on her ear; relmyna's eyes closed more tightly, a low sound rising in her throat as she realized for how long she had been starving for such. never in memory had she been touched in such a way, and the sensations that were beginning to rise beneath her skin confused the woman, sending her into paroxysms of nervous trembling that could perhaps be taken for another thing. 
despite herself, however, relmyna did not fear the hunger that grew in her, licking within her soul with tongues of gentle fire — she sought to run her lips along his own, nuzzle the length of his muzzle, feel the heart of his throat beneath its patchwork covering of fur; yes, yes; more to be had here.