Phantom Hollow here i found no self control

The voices she had heard faded with her arrival, as two sets of eyes alighted upon her. She already felt warm in the face (and other unmentionable places) but having the full attention of two people made her uneasy. How far she'd fallen from the enigmatic scout, the eager ambassador! All she wanted to do in that split-second was bolt; but she couldn't move, not as the voice of Mal hit her ears next. He sounded different. Older, maybe - a deeper voice, smoother - and Ibis felt weak in the knees. It must have been the fever.

Oh, um, she softly gasps, dropping her eyes from the two wolves as if she has invaded a private rendezvous. In the back of her mind she cannot help but think, 'Such glossy dark fur,' in relation to the woman. She is somehow out of her element here; of course, the ex-Archdruid did not expect to run in to Mal of all people. Hello Mal. And -- hello, her shy glances shift from Mal's face (was it always so appealing, with that roguish mask?) to the dark woman, to whom she smiles softly and nods a greeting. She's trying very hard not to look at Mal; every inch of her body is telling her to get closer and for all she knows, its the sickness trying to puppet her about.