Sawtooth Spire For thirty minutes bet we played that game

Stag probably didn't mean to push all the wrong buttons, but Wylla felt a stiffness spreading down the length of her back at the idea of taking anyone else as a mate. Raptor flashed momentarily across her mind and that was even worse—she'd long ago convinced herself that that was assault, even if she'd sort of allowed it, and there was nothing about that raucous piece of shit she admired. Aside from those two, she hadn't exactly spent a lot of romantic time in the company of... well, anyone.

Stag would make a wonderful mate for someone someday. A niggling in the back of her mind caught her attention. She shooed it away. Much too young, although what really mattered was that Mahler saw him as something of a son, and it was just plain wrong. And Phaedra. He'd make a wonderful mate... but that was pretty complicated, and Wylla didn't like complicated very much.

No, she said. I'm not in any rush to have a mate. You have plenty of time. So far, she'd been let down too many times. C'mon, let's go for a run, she suggested, eager to shed such heavy topics.

Fade here?