Moonstone Quarry black vultures circling the sky

ridgeback feels an amused smile tug at the edges of his lips; slow. her scent cloying the air that hangs between them. it is plenty of distance. not enough. too much. a deep breath is taken; slightly uneven. the deep inhale through his black, leathery nostrils rapidly makes itself known as a bad idea and ridgeback feels his paws drift forward, seeking to close some of that too much, not enough distance between them. she diverts down the path but — gods — waits for him.

he considers, through the haze fogging up his brain as it begins to make the unfortunate switch into secondary function, that perhaps it is best if he leads; less likely to smell her that way.

it requires, he sees, sucking his breath in thru clenched teeth, brushing past her. the path is a bit wider than the others they pirouetted ( well she pirouetted, ridgeback was far less graceful than that ) across but still. if he touched her ...ridgeback shudders, ears fluttering back against the crown of his skull. he wants to touch her. he shouldn't touch her. he takes a step forward, numbly. another. another yet. closer and closer until his breath hitches in his throat and his heart begins to hammer against it's prison of flesh and bone.

cruel.

you should keep going. he rasps in grim statement; the idle threat that he is a hot blooded beast and will be tempted to do what all hot blooded beasts do when in the wicked grasp of the season.