Whitefish River Spring Fever

She drew in a long, loud breath. Inhaling his unique, masculine scent for her to remember. He was intoxicating and refreshing. She felt starved of it. Having him so close was of great comfort to her. She heard him utter her name. Flames licked down her spine, making her shiver. His teeth were like a massage against the flushed warmth of her skin.

She hummed in a low, pleasant voice. The coldness of her nose shifted up through the fine fur to the junction of his ear, where she nipped gently, her breath warm. Her hormones were raging, deep rooted instincts demanding that he embrace her as his own. But her sense of logic was stronger. Just barely. Their relationship was just beginning. They were still figuring each other out. With no pack to support them, and Malila needing serious guidance in hunting, they were not ideal candidates to be first time parents.

She could wait, happily, for next year. When she would be wiser, fitter. "We can still enjoy ourselves, I think." Ever so slowly, she slipped away. Sent him a coy look back and began to skip ahead. Let him chase her...let them work out their energy. When he caught her, then she would succumb and spend the hours curled up as they were once before.