Sleepy Fox Hollow Gave up on it, but honey, you got my hopes up

Wylla awoke without a shred of doubt that the season had found her and dug its claws in deep. It didn't take being an intuitive woman to know it. She could smell it just as readily as she could feel it in her gut. Besides waking with more energy than she was accustomed to, she didn't feel much different, which was par for the course. She hadn't even known it was happening last year.

It was with a coy and arrogant defiance that Wylla rose from her scrape in the snow and marched out into the heart of Diaspora's territory. She spared no thought for Takiyok or the pecking order of the pack when she flagged her tail and waved it, beckoning @Mahler with her scent on the wind. She was much too wild, much too proud, and much too sure of her security here to care about flouting authority.

So she sought the General with singular focus, not because she wasn't in charge of herself—Wylla believed she absolutely was—but because she felt good and to hell with everything else.