Honeyed Pasture you smoke crack, dontcha?

Courting? He must have misunderstood. Court anyone, Ying clarified. Plans for her pairing had already been made; the mink was welcome to do the same. Her concern was with whom he was intimiate, and ensuring it was not one of her own. 

She leaned downward and pressed her chin against his shoulder. Sex. Will you be just for me? Ying could not make the same commitment — abandoning her primary coping mechanism wasn't an option — but knew that this was better unsaid. The pheasants had left them alone, bathing the pasture in silence.