Arrow Lake [m] i'm using all my strength to get out of this hole

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@Viinturuth

For years now, River had sequestered and viciously defended herself whenever her body decided it was time to conceive. And there had come many times, multiple times each year, every one of them too imperative to be suppressed. She had warred valiantly against this cardinal demand for a mate and children she did not want and could not quash the bodily desire for. But her prime physical condition, the directives of her body, cared nothing for her mental wellbeing. No amount of depression could dampen the unwanted fire.

It was always there, lurking, only waiting to make things worse.

This time it started as she set paws on the land she knew as the former territory of Diaspora. It was dark, and windy, carrying her scent like pollen-laden bees ready to land on the next flower. The ground swirled with mist, and a cloud-dressed moon peeked coyly at its own reflection in the lake. River stood lakeside, sating one thirst while ignoring the other.

With Arlette's fertile time within reach, Viinturuth strayed far beyond Swiftcurrent territory not only to avoid stepping on Arric's toes but to keep from torturing himself. The scent of receptive she-wolf drew him in lije a mother to a flame, fuelled him - it was too difficult to resist. The last thing their pack needed was to find conflict among its ranks, so it was easier to avoid his comrades entirely until the peak of Arlette's season came to an end.

He moved West, picking his way up into the range again. Night fell and the beginnings of a Springtime storm urged him to seek shelter. The wind whipped at his pallid furs and he peered through the darkness in search of an opening on the rocky cliffside, but his focus waned when he detected a particularly inviting aroma on the gust.

He went to her, lured by her silent siren song, and paused when he found a feminine figure crouched over the lake's edge. Viinturuth drank deep the sight of her: a long-limbed beauty, pale pelt reflecting the cool shades of the moon. He called out to her in a low, crooning note.

River turned sharply at the sound, chin dripping, eyes flashing. She turned to study the phantom, mist whirling away from him, eyes like voids in the dark. Someone of a lesser constitution may have even been unnerved. But where some may have seen something to fear, Sandraudiga only saw potential.

Her gaze trailed along each strong, pale limb, the line of his jaw, the lean contours of his shape. A hungering simmered unbidden in her belly. Her hormones crooned back to him, though she herself was silent. With an ominous ripple of her spine, she lifted her chin, daring.

A tacit invitation.

Was he as brave and certain as he was handsome?

She heard him, and answered with a smooth turn of her head. Viinturuth saw a pair of eyes look his way, moonlight reflected, and he straightened his posture for her to admire. He rooted himself there for a time, steeling himself against the desire to sweep forward and touch her; success was more commonly found found when patience was exercised.

She shifted, judging him with her stare, and his ears pricked forward attentively as she tilted her chin upward in what he believed to be invitation.

Prowling forward, the white wolf swept his tongue hungrily over a smooth canine. He drew closer with a confident stride, burgundy eyes half-lidded, and moved to reach for the seductress so he might test how accepting she was of his proximity.

A brave one! Her body practically purred as he strode nearer, his long lean-muscled legs and handsome silverspine catching the critical she-wolf's eyes.

She wanted to refuse the advance, but a primal sort of bloodlust electrified her, rooting her to the spot. She could picture flashes of herself, cradled beneath him, in various throes of unrest and ecstasy. It was dizzying! She had never felt the urge so intensely before.

When he reached for her, she tucked her chin and sidestepped, giving him a flash of her teeth. But the rebuff was half-hearted - uncertain more than unwilling. She had never taken to a stranger before, and she was quite leery of having him touch her. How could she trust this specter?

Stiff-legged, she began to circle him, prowling as she tentatively stretched out her muzzle towards his flanks to take in his hale and healthy scent.

She shied away, shifting herself out of his reach. Viinturuth rumbled a low note at the flash of her fangs, an assurance that he was willing to present himself in any manner she pleased.

Viinturuth followed her only with his dark eyes, rooting himself despite the way his body yearned for her own. He lifted his pale chin and the tip of his tail gave a contemplative twitch as he straightened his posture, allowing her moonlit gaze to take in the silver-kissed alabaster of his physique.

Her turn, then, to reach for him. The white wolf stiffened as she touched him, half-expecting her fangs to seek purchase on a flank, but soon slackened. Viinturuth moved carefully, glancing over a rugged shoulder to regard the mountain beauty with a boyish smile and a mischievous glint in his eye.