Totoka River what the water gave me

Coelacanth was not a jealous creature, but —

— yeah, no, okay, fine, she had her moments.

Incensed by the spice and sizzle of the breeding season, Coelacanth found herself unusually possessive of the Gampr. It’d always been there on some level — she’d been the one to find and care for him, just as she had Aditya, and the two males had carved within her heart two indelible, self-shaped spaces where only they fit. Now, though, there was a new urgency in the way she glued herself to the Armenian’s steps. Her biological clock, which had previously been on SNOOZE MODE for the year’s breeding season, had slowly begun to tick anew, perhaps influenced by her upswing in mental and physical health, and her cousin’s evinced fertility. Though she was still a few weeks away from the giddiness of proestrus, she was already beginning to exhibit certain behavioral changes that indicated it was on the horizon — especially in her Stockholm’s presence.

So when she found him talking to a girl who presented three very real threats — for one thing, she was a girl; for another, as a domesticated dog, she was sexually mature; and for a third, she wore a collar — Coelacanth surged forth with an uncharacteristically forward air and slid herself silkily between the Gampr and the Australian Terrier. Naturally graceful, she made a point of snaking her body sinuously against his broad chest, the crown of her head rubbing along the underside of his jaw. “Okay, Stockholm has to go now,” bespoke the pointed look she shot the smaller dog. Tufts of feathery, inkdark fur caught on the vreccale’s barbs, leaving the Groenendael’s scent irrevocably tied to the Gampr’s, as she wound her body around his with more than a little pressure as she leaned her weight against him. Then, she nipped at his hip with a spiced whuff and danced languidly away; and the gaze she cast at him over one shoulder was somehow both apologetic and suggestive.

“Sorry not sorry!”