Heron Lake Plateau as scarlet flowers lust for the dew of morning

I enjoy your rambles! :D

Quixote was many things, but above all, he was dedicated. He was possessed of a sense of responsibility that drove him to patrol their boundaries almost incessantly, and her heat had perhaps only driven him to greater lengths to keep intruders out. A receptive alpha female of a thriving pack was low-hanging fruit too tempting for wandering vagrants to resist picking, after all. But as long as Qui had his way, that would never be a problem for the Redhawks. His profoundly remarkable sense of responsibility, however, had robbed her of his presence, and in her current hormone-drunk state, that was just completely unacceptable. She felt a thrum of electric energy run through her body at the sight of him running to greet her, enthusiasm etched in each line of his face, splashed across each angle of his body.

...Which was looking really good right now. Like...damn. Fine AF. She watched him approach with appreciation, her interest clear in the expression of her face, and her tail took up a frantic waving of its own as he drew near. She closed in, positively vibrating with excitement, and covered his face with licks and kisses.

"Yep," she answered lightly, her voice bright. She gave him a sidelong glance, catching his eye with a coy gleam in her own, and flashed him a grin. Then she darted in and landed a light nip on his shoulder before springing away, bouncing around in a circle before coming to a stop some feet away. There she stood, poised to either attack again or flee, her whole body quivering with thunderous energy, lightning zinging through her veins.