Moonspear Leave me your wake to remember you by

The longer he stood there, fixed in Hydra's hazy heights, the more dry Dragomir's throat grew. The more confused his prepubescent body became. His parents hadn't been around to give him The Talk™ and he hadn't caught Hydra's drift during that pack meeting a little while ago. There was immature boyish desire blossoming in his stomach and making his nether regions horribly sensitive, but coupled with his juvenile inability to understand the purpose of such a feeling, it was mostly just uncomfortable for him.

He didn't understand what Hydra meant when she said she was in season, but she was wreathed in that tantalizing scent and he couldn't help but to take a tentative step closer. He licked his dry lips and averted his gaze, flinging his tail low as he repeated his question: Did Isilmë tell you if she was going away on a trip or something? I can't find her, seemed to be the underlying concern.

Another tentative step, his body moving of its own accord and without his conscious input. His voice was bold, but coloured in shy tones as he asked, could you, ah... stop doing whatever you're doing? It's really distracting. More importantly, his body was being really distracting, but either way it was her fault.