Wild Berry Meadow hold your ground

Lord would you put out this fire!

Ramsay's ears flitted over his brow and he looked up from his foraging, frowning in the sunlight. At his paws lay a partially eaten ground squirrel, which he meant to pick back up, but then the breeze brought him a rich, lavish scent the likes of which he had never known. To him it was the warm blood of a fresh kill, the deep earthy aroma of wet cavern walls, and the luring fragrance of spicy summer blooms. It was a concoction that wound deep down into his soul and plucked at something there, something that made the spot between his legs twang with sudden longing, and soon the ground squirrel was left forgotten.

He wasn't expecting for the delightful smell to be coming from another wolf. Most of his kind smelled strong, yes, but not so alluring. Ramsay was positively dew-eyed as he stalked across the meadow toward the tawny woman, holding his twisted figure as highly as he could. It wasn't the pompous strut of the men she fantasized about, but rather a smooth and ethereal gait, like some sort of elegant ruler. Was he not, after all, a lord of the forest?

He felt strangely taut in his abdomen as he inhaled Parvati's scent, and it was coupled with an urgency to do something now about it, but some still-intelligent part of his animal brain told him that some decorum was the way to go here. They were strangers, after all, and he didn't even really know what this was, only that he wanted it. So he cleared his throat, did the best he could to chase the obvious lust from his stance and his expression alike, and offered a warm hello.