Sleepy Fox Hollow lächeln

The impending season's agitation taking residence in Wylla's stomach and chest came rushing up into her mouth all of a sudden when he said her name. What to say, what to say. Clearly he was concerned, and she supposed it made sense—she was acting very unlike herself. She wasn't about to tell him she was so flustered because she'd been having intrusive dreams about him of late. Pretty much only about him. There'd been one or two with Raptor, but they were always violent in the end. Mahler's were... nicer.

But she would die before she would admit how easily her hormones ruled her, even if he was already aware. Hell, Tiercel was living proof of it, so it wasn't exactly a secret. This was only the beginning; it would get so much worse in the new year, and based on how she felt now, it would happen sooner rather than later. The pace of her heart suggested it wasn't strictly hormonal and that frightened her more than anything, because none of this was supposed to be happening anyway. She was supposed to be looking for her daughter, not fantasizing on the cusp of the maddening season.

All that aside, she could not stop herself from pirouetting to face him and blurting, without meaning to, I've just been having some dreams and I'm a bit shook, all right? I'm fine. She released a heavy exhale that plumed up around her mussed cheeks, then she glared across the distance. Fight me. I need to blow off some steam and it'll be good practice. She couldn't think of a better way to forget about the weighty suggestion of the dream than beating up the dude who featured in it.