Wapun Meadow iii. [m] sunglow and wildflower petals

Honey. Wildflowers. The almost-faded scent of other wolves clung desperately to her fur, but her scent was like his own. Wherever Wind Flower gifted the world by standing is what lingered on her pelt. Fallen Sun lowered his muzzle to the top of her head and snuck a very quick lick. 

Her fur on his tongue was soft. She was very soft. 

His sides twitched, and the gentle man barely remembered how his mother had taught him to behave.

Honeysuckle, sweetness, sugar. 

Dew on the morning rain. 

He found himself again with a burning, uncontrollable desire to surround her in warmth - his warmth. To cuddle and make her feel like she was cared for, was important. To provide for her. Wasn't that what a man was for?

The warmth, he thought, would be a good place to start.