Whitefish River Spring Fever

"Of course I can." She hummed happily. "It is just this way here." Her blood rushed, heating her skin. She was a rush of emotions, just like the untamed flow of the water that rushed in her ears. She skipped ahead, the soft blonde of her side gliding enticingly along the length of his body.

Her petite, delicate form darted up beyond his reach. In her wake was the trail of her scent. Of a fragrance belonging to a woman whose body knew what it wanted. Demanded. Malila struggled not to flag her tail instinctually for him, further spreading the tantalizing aroma of her heat. She knew what may happen if she allowed him to embrace her. But she had oh so enjoyed that night they spent cozied up together. The influence of the spores served to only enhance the experience and awaken feelings. 

Even if they had been strangers. 

Malila arrived to a sheltered grove surrounded by trees. The ground sloped up gently and the brush thickened ever so slightly. There, tucked into the hillside, was the open mouth of a long abandoned den. Her steps slowed considerably upon approaching it. Her ears slicked back and she uttered a low whine. Pausing by the entrance, she lowered her muzzle, desperately searching for any trace of the rich herbal smell that accompanied her childhood. There was none. Only memories.