Moonspear three blind mice

Alya was not concerned about the weather. She was active enough that she rarely felt the winter's sting, and that, when she did, it was more of an observation than a nuisance. Snow was just a fact of life on the higher slopes, so it didn't bother her when it came to the lower reaches of her home as well. She'd cut her baby teeth on weather like this, and besides, there'd been a strange fire burning in her belly for the past several weeks.

Which was why it was the first time in what was nearing a fortnight when she visited the rendezvous that day, having spent most of her time patrolling the outer territories, lately. It was also the first time she laid eyes on the pallid male that was padding toward her from several yards away, looking particularly handsome and dad-like with dead animals in his mouth. Alya allowed herself a brief moment of fantasy, wherein the man laid his kill at her paws and then swept her away to do... well. She was sure he knew how it worked. He did in her fantasies, at least.

But those fantasies were locked firmly within her chest, where she kept most of her thoughts (as one did). She remained still and stiff at the edge of the rendezvous and gave a sharp wuff to announce her presence.