Redhawk Caldera Betting on the bull in the heather

She would have preferred to spend the entire duration of this poorly timed season hidden away, grieving in her den over the loss of her youngest son. She felt deeply ashamed of herself, for having succumbed to such brazen, instinctive desires at a time when she was so deeply wounded and vulnerable by her loss, and was incapable of telling herself that this wasn't simply all her fault. She wanted nothing more than to simply disappear into the darkness and dissolve- but stronger than both her grief and her shameful desire was her thirst- so she left the den, slinking toward the lake at the heart of the pack's territory. 

But when a howl came from the borders, she sighed. Towhee wouldn't hear it, and perhaps she should have simply left Phox to the task- but being out of the den and in the fresh air actually...Felt nice. The further she roamed from the toxic friendliness of darkness the better she felt, so she continued past the lake. At first, she was summoned by little more than duty and curiosity- but it did not take long for that little bud of a question had grown and warped into something much darker and more urgent. She'd not recognized the voice which had called out- but it had belonged to a male. 

And when she thought for a moment of her mate- the sweet face of their deceased son came to mind, so she pushed the thought of both of them out of her mind, and set upon this new distraction with renewed vigour. 

With a keen, sparkling interest to her honeyed gaze she looked upon the stranger, and was drawn closer. Last year's children had made her feel so worn, tired and old- but in seeing this stranger through rose-coloured lenses, she felt herself come alive. So she approached with her tail curled slightly, but the tip waved in an enticing, playful manner. Her ears flicked forward, and she gazed with alluring intensity upon the male, uttering nothing more than a soft, demanding chuff in greeting.