Emberflame Ridge I sold my soul for this?

There is that name again, and she hears it from three voices - three different mouthes, all from the same wolf - and sways softly, as if it is sweet music and she has been lured in to a state of calm because of it. But then he is drawing her close again, pulling her in, and the woman lets him. The embrace they share reminds her of the many between herself and her lover; a soft purring sighs out of her at the memory, remembering the grip around her waist, the stress upon her joints as a body is hoisted atop her back, the pleasure of it — and she burrows in close, breathing him in, tasting the dust upon his fur and thinking, I am home I am home I am home!

Hungrily the woman begins to administer some soft touches with her lips, nipping at his skin with her teeth - drawing her tongue across his throat and feeling the pulse of the veins just beneath the surface. Tavi draws her face across his chin like a cat might, feels him drifting around her like a warm rain cloud, and knows what she wants — maybe not from him, but the woman doesn't know who she's with by now. It could be Ukko, it could be Reek, or Stark, or someone new, or nobody at all — a figment of her imagination knit together in pieces, like a jigsaw. All she knows is she wants, and there are shattered memories in her head that tell her how to achieve her goals.

Tavi draws her snout up the side of Ukko's throat, nibbles at the base of an ear, and breathes a moan as if it is so terribly difficult and so frustrating that she need to speak at all: Missed you, she sighs, and then resumes her attempts at affection; she is rough with him without meaning to be, awkward as if she has never done this before, but for Tavi it feels new and old at the same time. So very alien, but right, but wrong, and so mixed up.