The Sunspire [m] teal arrow

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: full estrus, unreceptive?? approach at probably more risk now

there were more than men in the world, muskrat told herself as she at last picked her way down into the sloping green that made the great mountain. forests of emerald sprawled like a carpet from her elevation, draping the swell of hills and breaking around rivers and the lake or two which punctuated the landscape.

she was ravenous for more than pika meat, and burning with more obsession to be touched. some conspiracy had turned her overnight into a pillar of pure flame, and it consumed her as much as she fought against it.

hunting. hunting. she found the trail of goats and padded along it, even as her hips hummed to be embraced.

The canyon—too close, still, but he hunted around the lush valley—and occasionally ventured into the upper reaches. They would find a place soon enough. For now, they would gather their strength.

Two smells assailed him as he continued upon the game-trail—something hot and pungent, unfamiliar to him. . .and that of his birthplace, his family's scents, the lush valley-sweet smell of—

The Creek, he muttered, and drew closer. A small woman, alone and questing.

He chuffed and laid hard golden eyes upon her, tongue swiping across his jowls. What are you doing here? he asked—even though he didn't have the authority to do so.

She could do as she pleased.

But why was a Creek wolf here?

for the pains of the darkshroud, he would receive only a clip of teeth close enough to sear the air between them.

muskrat's eyes flashed with warning; her lips stretched in a hard smile of warning.

he was somehow familiar. and he knew the creek, which boded for few other alternatives.

intriguing.

but she swung her steps away and went on, shoulders standing abristle.

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The snap of her teeth was more intriguing than deterring, especially combined with her scent. She didn't answer his question, instead wordlessly warning him back, eyes glinting.

Then she turned, and something rose up in Hex.

He was too young to sire children, but his body didn't know it. His gut tightened, and. . .swelled—

And he marched after her, determined to find the heat he sensed between her legs.

his stepping-sound continued the notion of familiarity, and eventually muskrat's ears slanted backward to listen. there was no denying that he was a boy, his shoulders just starting to fill out.

he could not slake the thirst of her flesh, but muskrat was tempted to let him try.

goat's oily scent signaled her to a stop; she brushed at the grass with her muzzle and then glanced back at the stranger.

a growl told him to stay back, but her eyes were interested to see if he pressed.

He pressed.

He was small, but she was smaller, and he bore down on her with a purpose. Bearing the blows and snaps of her teeth, he reached for the nape of her neck and aimed to press her down, 

to—

"It'll hurt a little," Agrippa murmured, holding his scruff fast, his body tight. "But I want you, boy. I need you."

Hex let out a sob of a breath, yearning and hurting all the same.

he came for her, blooded and wraithlike; he swept his arms around her and muskrat at last was still.

but the sound overhead was not the instinctual eagerness of one who has all he wants; the creek wolf began an attempt to slip free of his clutching grasp, warning him with not-quite anger, bordering curiosity now. "you ask what i am doing, hm? this," and she was still again, not submitting but not offering a conflict. her voice questioned, and muskrat clung to that curiosity lest she fall back into her earlier choice.

Hold still, Hex growled, taking the nape of her neck in his teeth. His slender hips lined up with hers, rocking insistently; his breath came fast and hard in his throat and chest.

If she bolted, he would aim to pin her down.

This was the way of it.

He was mourning and yearning for that sensation, and he could not let her slip free without.

their dance was swift and forceful, muskrat's paws spreading upon the grey ground to support the dominating insistence of the stranger. hips in his grasp, teeth in her skin, muskrat would make herself memorable either way.

she caught her breath beneath him, the yellow sliver of her eyes appraising. would he stay near the mountain for her time, she wondered with blood beating in her ears.

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He'd never been one to take control—only controlled. The feel of it drove him instantly mad, and it wasn't long before his body was sagging over the woman's back, his breath coming short, his eyes rolled back.

The first thing Hex noted was the look in her eyes—a question without words.

Why're you hanging around the Creek? he shot back, words slurring as if intoxicated. He freed himself from the knot and gave himself a long stretch and shake of his pelt, stifling a yawn. Despite his lackadaisical attitude, though, he wanted answers.

My father lives there, Hex remarked. His face grew tight, unpleasant. Don't tell me you've gone with him, too.

his father, and in that expression, muskrat discovered her truth. she slid languidly to the earth, pleased by her effect on him. but she did not answer until she had lain there some moments, blissful in the momentary satiation of this flamelicked need.

"if your is father is one i call night man, i know him." the citrus eyes gleamed. "catch me when i try small raid on camp."

made her a servant but not a slave. rejected her when she came to his den. asked her why she would stay if she did not care.

"that man here, days ago. follow me to mountain. throw rock. he leave." her crocodile's teeth were a glittering pleasure. "you want talk about father now?" truly? and she rolled hotly upon the ground, trying to sunder the fire again building beneath her skin.

Night man. There was no way of verifying it, but with his luck, Hex figured she spoke of Akavir. She went on to explain other things, including the interesting tidbit about his father being in the mountains—why?—but something else she said had caught his attention.

You tried to raid their camp? he replied, lifting his brows. Bold. Do you do that kind of thing often?

Blood was beginning to flow back into his head proper, and the craftiness of this woman was coming to the forefront of his mind. She could be useful if convinced to stay.

How would he do it, though?

the slitted sunflower stare took him in more thoughtfully, and she ignored the grating edge of her body's hunger for a moment.

"my people called swamp panthers. i part of warrior society. make raid on water snake clan. on turtle people. on jaguar runners." she rolled to her belly then her paws, brushing her body along the length of his before heading along the line of the ridge, following again the tracery of goat hooves.

"raiding good for all clans. keep territory. prove selves. take war brides." muskrat shot the stranger an inquiring look. "no one here makes raid. why?"

Hex closed his eyes with the barest of sighs in his throat as her body slipped against his, watching her tiny, lithe form walk away from him.

Not enough of us, he replied, shrugging. Wanna be safe. Keep bad wolves out.

But the thought of raiding some well-established caches. . .

Maybe we can raid together, some day, Hex offered, tilting his head. He had not the stature nor the sentiment for it—but something she stirred up within his belly was warlike, and it ran wild through him as he looked at her.

He was riveted.

a throaty laugh followed his words, but muskrat felt the appeal of it directly to her very gut; a chert knife which cut the bonds of her obligation and led her back to a way more traditional.

"not creek," for reasons she felt would be obvious. "raid means blood. wounds. we be bad ones if we do this."

the shark's-teeth glittered pleasantly and she went on searching the trail. he was welcome then to come with her, or to turn back to whatever he had been doing before she waylaid him.

But not death, though, he argued, increasing his pace to keep up. His golden eyes cut sidelong into hers, intrigued. Blood dries. And we need food here.

He continued down the path with her, the funny churn of desire still stirring in his belly. 

How—why?—did she smell so good?

And how could anyone resist her?

He was more determined than ever to keep her around and under his protection. As if she needs protecting, he scoffed inwardly, rolling his eyes.

maybe fade this one here/next post? <3

his confidence fired her own thoughts, and muskrat felt the vital, heated leap of raiding-power touch her bloodstream once more. "raid can mean death, if not careful."

the hot sunflower eyes searched his own, finding the determined core of iron behind the knifeman's look. "but i think you careful."

hunger called to muskrat now, shutting her jaw for a time. but when belly was flush with meat once more, and the ambitious hex teased by her hips again, muskrat found herself in deep consideration.

<3

Maybe too careful, Hex muttered in response. She'd let loose a lust for flesh and blood within him that extended far past the warmth of her loins. There was no way he could raid alone, and she didn't seem keen.

It would have to wait.

You wanna do it again? he asked instead. 

And if yes meant fucking and no meant fighting, then there were no wrong answers from her lips.