Overture Downs You should go and love yourself*

I did not hear him. Maybe, then, Mordecai failed to call his wolves. Saena wonders idly if it was a suicide attempt, for surely any sane wolf would raise their voice in alarum at the first sighting of an aggressive cougar, but... no, she can't make that assumption. She can't make any assumptions. Mordecai was a pack mate once, but it was brief and her interaction with him was limited to a single hunt prior to her departure from the plateau. The way he conducted himself then suggested a logical creature. She also had no right to guess at the intentions of another, especially one who wasn't within her jurisdiction. Mordecai was no longer a pack mate, and she no longer could afford to wonder about those outside her pack.

Luke, however, would always be exempt from that callousness. He shifted to preen at the hair above her shoulder blades. Saena betrays even herself when she lets a soft sound of pleasure creep up through her lips. She herself moves to allow him better access and for a moment enjoys the feeling of teeth pulling through her fur. Grooming was such an intimate thing among wolves, an activity with the power to bond even strangers, but with him it's also strangely sensual and personal and adds a bit of heat to the entire act. Thoughts that shouldn't cross her mind, but did fleetingly.

Perhaps because she too craves some nearness to offset the stress of leading her pack lately, she doesn't hesitate to turn her head and nip warmly, playfully at the longer tufts near his cheeks, as if coaxing him... but to what end?