Dawnlark Plains XV

a string of cursewords was what her thoughts were reduced to, and she'd have continued to mentally swear and run, had something in the bellow of a bull - the way it seemed directed at something closer - not turned her head.

the big guy had attempted to follow her, and in doing so drawn the attention of the bison.

more cursing, now targeted.

it continued as she swerved and raced back. already she'd hate herself for having been made to run, but to lose her one good lay in all of this wolfshit stained land would be a far greater blow to her pride. 

what she made hers stayed hers, no cow could get its dirty fucking hooves on that.

her body was at its limit when she ran - snorting panting drooling - past the wolfman, to the side of the bull.

her height finally gave her some help here, as she easily dove under the behemoth, and - guided by an emasculating, matriarchal rage - aimed her powerful mastiff jaws at its undefended balls.

 i now have "bison testicles" in my search history