Ghost Lion Crag Ride or die.

While she waited, her tail continued to slither to and fro and her head swiveled, orange eyes routinely scanning for any sign of Hydra's approach. After about twenty minutes of this, Towhee grew especially restless and rose onto her feet, perhaps to pace. But the instant all four legs were beneath her, she froze as a peculiar, telltale scent swamped her nose. She blinked down and saw a smear of blood on the grass where she had been sitting.

Just like that, the mercenary metamorphosed, her higher consciousness slipping away as her basest, most feral instincts rose up and took the proverbial wheel. In that same instant, by some serendipitous stroke of fortune, a would-be suitor appeared. Forgetting all about her plans to rendezvous with Hydra, Towhee quickly sized up this perfect stranger. He resembled her sister (who was biologically his sister), though he was quintessentially male. Secondarily, he appeared healthy and strong.

That was all she required. Towhee made a noise that could only be called a caterwaul and strode toward him, unleashing her best bedroom eyes. Just in case that—and the powerful scent now drenching the cold air of the pass—wasn't enough, she asked quite forwardly, "U want sum fuk?"