The Heartwood lustmord and wargasm

Luke's felt as though his heart was going to simultaneously stop and jump up into his throat as the elk stumbled, anticipating all the things it would leave behind when its spirit moved on: meat, hide, antlers. And yet, he felt a wash of relief as it regained its balance. It was hard to celebrate, without some conflict of emotion, the death of a monarch like he when you were in awe of its life, a king who had stood the test of survival, who had proven himself the among the fittest.

His dark-furred companion's use of the word 'flock' drew an amused smile from Luke, remembering his discussion with Peregrine. "I bet some young buck is thrilled for his chance to reign, and can hardly wait to get his paws on all the girls," the blue-nosed wolf chuckled softly, knowing that elk differed from wolves in that one male would take for himself numerous females, and would guard them from others who would try to steal them. "I bet will live  on in many," Luke reflected, thinking that this elk must have sired many offspring in his time of supremacy.