Bearclaw Valley some kind of metal made up from glue

astara resented the foreign instinct that took residence in her body, pressing her with will she was unfamiliar. merrick appeared suitably cowed by her aggression, and astara backed off with a guilty flicker of her indigo gaze.

she wanted -- no, she didn't want --

but she wanted security. she wanted the familiar. his embrace. the feel of his teeth preening her fur. the warmth; his body. hers.

merrick attempted again, this time his approach slow with a whine cupped to his throat. astara's features contorted in remote disdain, her tail arching challengingly over her haunches.

if he was to take her -- and by the fates, he was -- he would have to subdue her first.