Sleepy Fox Hollow gain no strength from counting the beads on a rosary

lip curled. 
the scent upon the cold wind was that of a male; it struck mahler knifelike through the clouds of heat-fragrance that had settled in heady eddying waves upon the hollow. and he did not pass a day without finding himself addled in more ways than one, lustful, wanting, an ache in his loins at all times.
now protectiveness rose fierce in the general's heart; a possessive ire limned his heavy frame as he attended the masculine call with an alacrity that carried him in a firm step toward the borders. a muscular wolf the darkened color of corewood there stood, and mahler swept down upon the male with a terrible growl of warning seeking death in his chest.
if worth the earth's salt, the stranger would understand the upflung plume and unerring stare of the watchful general, his jealous flickering silence as he waited to be told why this man had come.