Sleepy Fox Hollow lächeln

Wylla, as it turned out, wasn't feeling so hot lately.

Oh, nothing was physically wrong with her, but she'd been having dreams. Dreams that reminded her that spring would soon be coming and nature's course could not be halted. Dreams that were sometimes more than a little risqué in nature, owing to that fact. Dreams that left her in a strange mood, because she knew it was only a matter of time before her body itself responded. They often left her in a temper as the winter ramped up, so she'd stolen time away from others, and what encounters she had had weren't the happiest.

Suffice it to say, soon after waking from another dream, she was not looking to run into the greyscale General. Not only was she weirdly self-conscious about him seeing the flyaway nature of her fur before she groomed it—it was stuck up at all angles along her back and belly and she had yet to do anything about it—but she also didn't want to see him because, let's be honest here, he probably featured in some of those dreams. And she hadn't quite stifled the remnant feelings of the last one.

Fuck winter, am I right? And fuck chance, because there it was again, kicking her in the teeth. Upon seeing him bent over a pool of water between where she'd been sleeping and where the nearest cache could be found, Wylla made a strange noise in her throat that he definitely would hear, damn her, and tried to casually change direction as though she hadn't seen him at all.