Shadewood you wake on the floor holding a knife, a bottle and a handful of black fur

Wincing with every step, Masquerade limped toward the river that formed the territory’s eastern border. She considered veering a little south to stop along the bank shared with the isle, though she didn’t want to risk running into Ines this morning. She chose a spot overlooking the slough, figuring that very few would venture there.

As soon as she reached the river bend, she waded into the shallows. The water was cold, which was ideal. Masque eased into a squat, looking very much like she was urinating into the rapids. She hissed as the current washed over her wounds, though soon there was relief as the frigid temperatures numbed the pain.

She slowly shifted onto her good hip, so she looked less ridiculous and vulnerable. With her back to Shadewood, Masquerade scanned the nearby swamp for any sign of life. The late March morning was still, the overcast sky hinting at an imminent cloudburst, but the trees at her back were filled with birdsong.

Knowing @Riley would worry about her if she was absent too long, Masque eventually forced herself to all fours. She stepped onto the shore and let herself drip, teeth clicking together as the dull, throbbing pain in her thigh returned along with the other sensations in her posterior. After giving herself a very careful shake, she turned to assess the wounds.

The punctures didn’t look bad, all things considered. They were already forming scabs. Masque licked at them quite tenderly, then froze with a knit in her brow as the metallic odor of blood filled her nose. She drew back her head to pinpoint the bleeding but all the scabs remained intact.

Birdsong sounded across the canopy of the woods. Riley had been struck by its sudden emergence — realizing belatedly how quiet winter must be that he would notice something as simple and pedestrian as the chatter of horny birds.

He followed Masque’s trail past a slough, where it deposited towards a running river. Here he caught Masque in full view, sodden and bent around — no doubt assessing the ugly wounds that scored her back.

He reached for her wordlessly, worry in his gaze. Maybe you should have mated a healer. Riley jested lightly, concern darkening his features as he too noticed the scent of blood.

She turned her head at the sound of Riley’s approach but said nothing, returning her scrutinizing gaze to her damaged flesh. When her mate sidled up alongside her, she snorted lightly through her nose. That tinny odor filled it up on the subsequent breath, yet Masque couldn’t figure it.

You did a great job cleaning me up. They’re already scabbing, she told him a little distractedly, then in the next breath added, Do you smell that? I thought I was bleeding but I don’t see… any… blood…

Except, she did. Masquerade suddenly noticed a bright red splotch on the ground between her hind feet. Without thinking, she pivoted, her hip—the good one, thankfully—bumping into Riley as she bent to investigate the crimson smear.

Riley brushed along Masque briefly, tail low and wagging as she complimented his cleaning skills. He almost replied, but noticed her distracted air — which in turn, made him a little on edge and distracted. She asked if he’d smelled that; he nodded with a thick bolus forming in his throat — whatever it was, it was needling — like a splinter, only in his brain.

He was brought back to by the jostling of her hip against him, something that awoke a deeper sense of urge in him than he’d been expecting. They hadn’t frisked since her unfortunate run-in — as she bent to inspect a dark patch of blood on the earth, Riley gradually connected the dots. Slow as he could be sometime, he’d lived through several seasons now — and began to recognize the tell-tale concoction for what it was. Oh…

Riley pressed his chest to Masque gently then, mindful of her wounded side.

It smelled exactly like blood, only there was something else to it. An ear bent in response to Riley’s gasp somewhere behind her, soon after followed by her head lifting. She glanced at him, though something else quickly snared her attention: there was another spot of blood between her hind feet!

It was starting to dawn on her just what this meant. Drawing in a sharp breath of her own, Masque planted her feet, raised her tail and twisted to sniff at her own nethers. Without a doubt, it was the source of the blood and the powerful scent strengthening in the humid spring air.

Riley seemed to realize what it meant too, judging by the way he pressed into her. The simple contact sent a flush of heat—how apropos—through Masque’s entire body. She’d always enjoyed exchanging affection with her mate but this was wildly different in ways she could scarcely comprehend.

As their bodies brushed together and Masque shoved her head underneath Riley’s with more fevered intent than ever before, she hisspered, We are not letting that bitch co—

Her lewd comment cut off abruptly when she realized something. Had that she-wolf attacked her because she’d sensed Masque’s incoming estrus? Why that should drive a total stranger to maul her, she didn’t know. But the thought earned a derisive snort and a shake of her head.

It’s going to hurt, no matter how careful we are, she continued, about to tell him she didn’t care. But then her eyes tracked over the nearby water and she murmured a contemplative, Unless…

Riley did his best to track the arcing of the conversation, but truthfully, his focus was only on one thing — the swaying of her rump as she turned and inspected another spot of blood. 

He swallowed — thoroughly distracted up until she repositioned herself, brushing her head beneath his in the gesture that had become so customarily theirs. 

Mercifully, Masque’s line of thought aligned with his, only — her solution was far more clever. Riley followed her gaze to the water, first with confusion and then a slow, dawning excitement. 

Are you.. sure? He asked, unable to disguise the tension of his body as he felt her fur rustle against his own.

She had never been more certain of anything in her life and quickly answered, Yes.

But that didn’t mean there weren’t logistics to consider. Masquerade nibbled at Riley’s cheek before turning back toward the water. With a backward glance at him, she stepped back into the gentle current. She was already wet, so the chill didn’t hit her as strongly this time, though she knew it was still frigid. And that was good; it was what she needed.

Chilly spring water swirled around her ankles as she turned to face Riley. Her long tail swung, the gentle back and forth motion making her thigh ache. But she didn’t stop, especially since it served a purpose. Her mate didn’t need convincing, she knew, but the gentle sway spread her scent along the riverfront.

Come on in, the water’s fine, Masque teased, raising a forepaw to flick some water in his direction. I think this might be the only part of our claim we haven’t christened yet, she added thoughtfully even as she ventured further out, toward deeper water.

It eventually closed over every part of her body save for her masked face. Masque found purchase on the rocky river bottom, though she knew she would probably move back into shallower water to actually do the deed. For now, she anchored herself in place and let the icy water do its job, chilling her skin despite the unhindered burning in her core.

It was true — Riley didn’t need to be asked twice.

He watched with wordless admiration as she stepped back into the water; she was so resilient. So strong. An Amazon, truthfully — and somehow, she’d picked him.

Riley started from his reverie as she flicked water upon him. A playful growl left his lips as he sensed the deepening scent her tail fanned into the air.

No, he didn’t need a second invitation at all — though as he made his way towards her and the watery embrace, his stomach sucked in with the cold chill of the river.

Even the icy touch of the water did not douse the burning of his longing; Riley found the stone in which she anchored and worked carefully towards her, gentle in his touch but no less fervent as their bodies entwined beneath the cascade of glittering riverwater.

This — and many other moments — he would treasure, and he would hold them as tightly to his chest as he did to Masque that night, thinking of how neatly her little puzzle piece fit into his own, and how he would do anything to keep it that way forever.