Bearclaw Valley had wild dreams walkin' the streets

<3

The way Merrick lunged for the stranger made Æsilfír swoon and cackle. She’d caught a glimpse of something on his features for a moment there, when he realized she was in heat, that must have meant something. To react so violently, and chase off his rival, meant that he would allow no one else to touch her. Which implied that he would lay claim to her for himself.

But the touch she longed for did not come. Something strange and pained showed in his gesture as he lingered for a moment before he turned away from her. She whined and took a step but was fended off with such sudden savagery that she shrank back. 

He didn’t want her. 
He didn’t want the stranger to have her, but he didn’t want her either.

She hurt, for a moment, but the pain smouldered and burned. She fumed. Rejection seared through her breast and with a string of quietly uttered curses, she gritted her teeth and steeled herself against the pain. 

This wasn’t over. This was far from over. And if it was going to be over at some point, she’d make sure it all went down in flames.