Dawnlark Plains It isn't what it seems

if wintersbane'd ever been around a woman in estrus before he'd been too young for it to affect him. he recognizes the buildup of desire, the heat prickling on his skin beneath his plush, silken pelage; and eventually the puzzle pieces begin to fit together in his head, one by one. ah. there's a cant of his head as she eyes him up and down and winks at him and he wonders if the pheromones she gives off affects him as they do how it all must affect her. it wasn't an easy choice. he tells her on the topic of blackfeather woods; there'd been a lot of guilt at first.

if she's heartbroken by the disbandment she doesn't show it. in fact, she seems to shrug it off and her words suggest that she hadn't been there during it's final hours. you sound pretty ok with that. he points out, but wasn't he the same way about blackfeather's potential fate? didn't there come a time when you just had to accept and move on with your life?

she draws nearer still and wintersbane stops breathing for a moment as her scent hits him at full force. the intoxication was gradual at first and now it slams him like a brick wall — and it only serves to add fuel to the fire of the feverish shiver that ripples down his spine as elixir rubs against his side. she circles around him and reappears on his other side, her fur and scent mingling against his own. a low, sultry noise rumbles in his throat, like rolling thunder in the far off distance.

so? he rumbles in response to her whisper, a quirk of his brow given, encouraging her to say what she leaves hanging at the end of that drawn out word.