Wheeling Gull Isle hike up your skirt a little more

Doe was nervous, but her other needs far outweighed her fear, that day. Starved for food as she was - and it showed, in the jutting lines of her ribs, and the sharp knobs of her ankles - she was even more starved for attention. Even though a tiny growl of anxiety bubbled up in her throat, she couldn't stop herself from inching closer to the strange male, russet-streaked tail fluttering against her hocks in friendly submission.

Please, please touch me, she wanted to say, but the words were locks away in the tightness of her throat. Her body was too wound up to allow for something as graceful as speech - even her light-footed steps seemed awkward and ungainly, especially when carried out by the fur-sheathed skeleton that made up her body. And besides, even with the ravening state of her mind, she knew that please, please touch me was not something that ought to be said to strangers.

Instead, she tried to echo his greeting back to him.

"H- h- "

She scuttled back a step or two, startled by the unfamiliar sound of her own voice.