Sawtooth Spire Lasiurus

The sound of another's approach was scented more than it was heard. The wolverine was near. She bathed in the moonlight, a sphinx in her position, content to laze for a little while. Her eyes opened only when her subordinate could be heard, and when he was seen, she heard his eager whines. Tonravik's tail twitched and soon dragged against the earth itself in a wave. She brought herself to a stand as he licked at her bloody chops, entirely still as her tail lifted over its hindquarters. 

Tonravik circled to put one foreleg over his body, sniffing loudly at his crown and then shoulders to gather what she had missed in his own life. She had been gone a while, but she smelled new things–the new subordinate, Aariak, Echelon–who she had hoped would come, but she would find her–among others. And upon her? He would smell the new life, and undoubtedly her mate.