Stone Circle Well now I know that I'm the fuel and she's the spark.

He is a wreath around her: his scent, his body, his being, and she laughs as they fall together. A tangle of silver and white against the frozen ground. Her nanuk sprawls on his belly, and she drapes across him, triumphant as a queen on the battlefield, her quarry held to rest beneath a victor's paws. But he is not her quarry; he is her treasure, and a smile enchants her face. She leans forward, and playfully tugs at the fur beneath his ear.

"Hi," she whispers back, and she leans down to run the crown of her head against the strength of his jaw. The season is not yet upon her, but there is no need for her heat to draw out her affection for him. "You are very handsome when you concentrate," she whispers, and her voice is charmed with the tremor of a laugh, "But you are also very easy to fell! What were you following, hmm?" and she beguiles a grin, "And with such intent."