Hushed Willows [m] Mental Wounds

His attempt at catching her unawares seemed to have failed before he even laid eyes on her. Greysin could see her in the distance, rooted to the spot. The wind had ratted him out. It must have, her stance alone told him so.

With a shrug of his shoulders, he continued on. He wanted to meet her, regardless. She stood there, a sentry on the banks of the river that separates them, her lips pulled into a growl. Her fur standing on end, making her appear larger, but he could see past that tough exterior. It was a farce.

He was an older male with experience in reading females. Many a day and night as a young and upcoming male was spent wooing females; young, old, looks never really mattered, his brain muddled by young, frisky, hormonal energy. Greysin loved females. He felt it in his bones. Their scents were always so intricate; it was fascinating to him. Males were just cannon fodder. He sometimes fought them for no reason; he just felt like it. They were his punching bags. Of course, he didn’t win all of the fights, but the big male would rather perish than admit it.

Greysin returned his attention back to the female ahead of him. He tried to make himself appear smaller, although it was a very difficult feat. Dropping his head low and turning his body to the side, he avoided her eye contact while calling out.

“Forgive me for intruding. I mean no harm to you.”