Wapun Meadow You sleep rather soundly for a murderer.

Durnehviir had crossed paths with many lone males during her travels with Viinturuth, but she never spent any great length of time alone with them. As a young female, there were those who of course captured her attention and the natural pull to seek a mate and set up home had stirred within her on occasion, but she'd never acted on that instinct. She and her uncle had never really stuck around anywhere long enough for her to build real relationships; the fear of losing others so suddenly as she had her mother and brothers was enough to keep herself from reaching out no matter how much she longed for a connection.

She watched keenly as the dark brute rose his proud head, and Durnehviir admired his handsomely chiseled features and masculine frame as he stepped in her direction. She blinked up at him, braving a tentative step forward and then another, until she found her stride more confident. As though synchronised, the two wolves veered to their left and circled one another loosely, their gazes never drifting from one another.

She let him get close to her, despite the anxious thrum of her heart. What was this? Fear? Excitement? Durnehviir's family woes scattered to the back of her mind as distance between the two vanished. She felt increasingly lightheaded and as she felt the mystery male's breath hot on her ivory cheek, Durnehviir was certain that she might melt at his paws.

Cat-like, she leaned the side of her face against his sable muzzle and shut her eyes. A soft purl poured smoothly from Durnehviir's lips and she inhaled, drinking deep the scent of her companion and gently inviting him to continue his ministrations. He smelled strongly of sea salt and warm sand and although he was a complete stranger, the cinnamon Frostfur at once found herself wondering where he'd been all her life.