Blackbeak Bluff I'll admit I tripped on your waistline

She didn't think her fur could flare out any further but it proved her wrong of its own accord. Her coat spiked as Raptor went on; she let him finish, let the realization that he was probably right sink in, and felt even her undercoat prickling to life along her shoulders. She cut a fearsome figure like that, especially since she still wore the scabs and scars of their last encounter. Smells like other pregnant females, he said, and her growl grew to drown him out.

"Shut up," she ground out, standing at her tallest, "get out of my sight and never show your face again." It made sense now, why her body had silenced her mind's call for violence and allowed him to mount her. With a clearer head she knew she would never have allowed her enemy to satiate himself with her body, but she had let Raptor. That was the doing of biological imperative; now that she knew it, she couldn't see how she'd been so stupid.

She didn't wait to see whether he left or not; she stooped to pick up the rest of her fish, spun on her heels and stalked off back toward the mainland and Swiftcurrent Creek. Suddenly she wasn't hungry, but the fish could sit in the caches for someone who was.