Firefly Glen [m]eet me in the woods tonight

her crooning came in short, intense bursts. sometimes the sound would carry among the trees and sometimes it would feel stopped somehow, as if by a wall, or silenced by the choke of green. someone did hear, though — and they came to her in a rush of intent.

zharille heard the movement of the man's body through the ferns, though it came quickly, and she was bristling with unease even as she turned to meet his eye. upon his face he wore a scowl as readily as the gray of his grizzled cheeks; he moved for her hindquarters without even sharing air with her, and the woman was immediately conflicted.

on one hand the man was forthright and she did like that quality. he looked healthy, he was well fed - though not well groomed - and held the self-assured nature of someone older. he had likely been tested by a scent like her own before, and zharille wished to give in — her tail lashing the air as it arced over her hips.

at the same time, she did not know him. he seemed more wild than anyone she had met yet, and could be dangerous. he prowled by her hips in an overt manner so they both knew why he had come, answering her equally overt call. what reason did she have to deny him? zharille did not wholly relax, but she crooned to him again, and moved to lick the air as close as she could get without doing an about-face.